Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone
by Quatermass
Summary: Book 2 of The Cetra Heritage Saga. The time has finally come for Harry, adopted by Elmyra Gainsborough, to go to Hogwarts. And Aerith and Jenova are accompanying him. But even as he makes new friends and new enemies, a presence lurks in the shadows, determined to finish what he started: Voldemort has Harry Gainsborough in his sights, along with the Philosopher's Stone...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

At last, Book 2 of _The Cetra Heritage Saga_!

Damn, what a journey it has been, huh? Two stories, and I'm amazed, as always, by the following I have. As I come to publish this (but not as I come to write this, so I'm leaving the stats blank until I do publish them), I have had 35.7K views, 147 favourites, 160 follows, and 79 reviews on _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , and 2.6K views, 35 favourites, 37 follows, and 14 reviews on _Birthday_. Thank you again for your patronage.

Like _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , this story will be published in episodes of five chapters apiece. How many episodes this story will go for, I am yet to determine. Unlike _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , the previews and review-answering segments will be at the end of each episode's final chapter, instead of having posted chapters to themselves. I'm actually considering not having the previews for the moment. Unlike _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , this is a somewhat less action-filled story, and that does less for trailers.

The story for _Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone_ will be, naturally, largely familiar. Most things will remain similar to the novel, though there will be changes from the get-go, for various reasons, and characters taken in different directions. This time, the emphasis is on the Harry Potter characters, rather than the _Final Fantasy VII_ characters.

Also, please keep in mind that my updates will in all likelihood be a lot slower than with the first two stories. I nearly burned my brain out doing _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_ , so please be patient when waiting for new episodes. You can tell, though, by how long it took for me to post the first episode.

I'm not going to answer the reviews I got for the last two. But thanks for them all the same. I'm glad you enjoyed the first couple of stories in _The Cetra Heritage Saga_.

Okay. Now it's disclaimer time.

Anyway, now for the disclaimers. Firstly, there will be little to no bashing of the Harry Potter characters. Yes, their faults will be scrutinised, but this will be more reconstruction than deconstruction.

Secondly, there will be annotations up the wazoo. You have been warned.

Finally, the following is a fan-based work. _Final Fantasy VII_ and _Harry Potter_ are the properties of their respective owners. Please support the official release. You don't want Sephiroth to turn you into a shish-kebab with his Masamune, do you? I mean, dying at the hands of a silver-haired effeminate mother's boy…


	2. Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

**EPISODE 1:**

 **HEARTH AND HOME**

 _In all matters, before beginning, a diligent preparation should be made._

 _-Cicero_

 **CHAPTER 1:**

 **DIAGON ALLEY**

Harry Gainsborough, once Harry Potter, stared at all the sights and wonders all around him, his green eyes wide with astonishment. Even after his adventure back home (or where he considered home now) on the Planet, he was still amazed by the experience that was Diagon Alley. To think that such a place existed in London, and he never knew about it.

Of course, he had his relatives to thank for that. The Dursleys had never told him about his magical heritage, and indeed, went out of their way to try and squeeze and beat the wonder and fantasy out of the boy. His aunt had done it out of jealousy and spite. Why did his uncle do so? Was it just because Harry happened to be a convenient target to vent hate and spite on?

It was a moot point. He was free from them now, and hopefully forever, unless he chose to speak with them. And at the moment, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

It was a strange and rather large entourage he was going through Diagon Alley. The Weasleys, a clan of redheads and pureblood wizards, made up a large part of it, at least in numbers. There was Molly, a formidable woman who was both indulgent and strict. She was a bit like Elmyra, if a little more mercurial. There was the frankly somewhat officious Percy Weasley, thin-faced and bespectacled. There were the mischievous twins, Fred and George. And there was Ron, of course, Harry's age. They had taken the Floo (a marvellous transport using a fireplace to travel) from the Burrow to Diagon Alley that morning.

Of course, a significant chunk of the physical bulk of the party was made up by one Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, a huge man with a shock of wild hair and an even wilder beard. Rough of speech, and a bit simple, he was nonetheless a kind person, as far as Harry could tell. They had met up with Hagrid at the Leaky Cauldron, the premiere pub of Diagon Alley.

Perched on Harry's shoulder was a cat, albeit one wearing a crown and a cape. Cait Sith was the semi-autonomous creation of Shinra executive Reeve Tuesti, and his accompanying them to Diagon Alley was partly a test of the toy's shielding. He was already shielded against Mako Energy, so it was a calculated gamble to check whether it could withstand magic. So far, so good.

Near Harry was an elegant woman dressed in a white suit, with a thin, cruelly beautiful face, framed by long tresses of blonde hair. Of course, this wasn't her normal appearance, but Jenova knew better than to look too inconspicuous. She was probably conspicuous enough, blatantly dressing like a non-magical, or a Muggle as they were called here.

Finally, right next to Harry and holding his hand tightly, was a young woman with brown hair and eyes as vividly green as Harry's own. Her pink dress was supplemented with a mahogany-coloured jacket. Aerith Gainsborough was as amazed as Harry, drinking in the sights and sounds and smells around them.

They had arrived on Earth last night, at Hogwarts itself. After taking the Floo to the Burrow, they had made themselves at home in the admittedly shambolic house. Harry had barely slept, he was so excited. And he got to meet the other Weasleys for the first time, like the twins, and Percy, and of course, Arthur, the patriarch.

"It's like Wall Market," Aerith muttered, looking around.

"A bit more cramped than Wall Market," Jenova remarked. "I wonder if there's anyone like Don Corneo around here?"

Aerith grimaced. As much as it was her idea to infiltrate Corneo's mansion with Cloud in order to get information and find Tifa, she never cared for the man himself. Which was why she meant every word when she threatened to rip his most precious possessions off his body.

Their first port of call was Gringotts, the goblin-run bank. Hagrid had the key to Harry's vault, and Aerith had managed to browbeat Molly into allowing the Gainsboroughs to pay for some of what the Weasleys needed. The twins and Ron looked at Aerith with more than a little awe: very few people won an argument with Molly Weasley, after all, or have her overcome her pride where money was involved. Hagrid also mentioned he needed to do business at Gringotts, Hogwarts business.

Harry, Aerith, and Cait Sith boggled at the poetic warning at the front doors. Jenova, however, merely smirked. Not that she would actually try to steal something from Gringotts, but it sounded like a challenge to think about it.

Sirius had tutored Harry on how to deal with goblins, the ones that ran Gringotts: " _Always show them the utmost respect. Most wizards forget that the goblins are the ones who hold the money for them. They show contempt towards the goblins, despite that. Show the goblins respect, and they will remember you for it._ "

Harry did so, as much as he could. The goblins were somewhat intimidating, but they were soon ushered to a cart. The Weasleys stayed behind to use another cart for their vault (Molly refused to let Harry pay for everything), but Hagrid, Jenova, Harry and Aerith were soon in the cart, going through the caves deep in the depths of Gringotts. And there, when their goblin attendant Griphook opened up the vault (which was, incidentally, Harry's trust vault, to pay for his educational supplies at Hogwarts), the trio stared in wonder. Sirius had told them that James Potter and his family were pretty rich, but to see the reality, gold, silver and copper coins piled to the ceiling…

Harry had to smother a sudden desire to dive into the mass of coins, Scrooge McDuck-style. Instead, under Griphook's guidance, and with Aerith's help, they raked a number of coins in. Enough, according to what their correspondence with Dumbledore said, to pay for Harry's school stuff, plus some extras. Not just helping out the Weasleys, either.

Hagrid wasn't looking too good once they came to the vault he had needed to come to. Griphook had opened the door with some magic, and had explained to the curious onlookers that if a non-goblin would try it, they'd get sucked in.

"How often do you check for intruders?" Aerith asked.

"Oh, about once every ten years or so," Griphook said with a vicious grin.

In the silence that followed, while Hagrid went into the vault and picked up a rather non-descript, even grubby parcel, Jenova grinned herself. "I _love_ your style," she purred to the goblin.

* * *

After emerging from Gringotts, Hagrid excused himself: he needed a pick-me-up at the Leaky Cauldron, given his dislike of the carts. He'd catch them later once they'd dealt with their robes.

Harry, Jenova, and Aerith waited for the Weasleys to emerge, and made their way to Madam Malkin's for their robes. Just as they finished, Hagrid turned up. They then went to Flourish and Blotts for the texts. The bookshop, however, was for all kinds of books, and Harry scowled when Ron showed him the large shelf of various fictional exploits of himself. He was surprised to see a small section of Muggle books, and added, to the texts, a copy of Shakespeare's works, as well as _The Hobbit_ , and _The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. Sirius had extolled the virtues of Douglas Adams(1), and Harry wanted to give it a shot. It was interesting trying to explain the concept of science fiction to Ron, who was amazed to learn that Muggles had landed on the Moon.

Hagrid then took Harry to Eeylops Owl Emporium, and within twenty minutes, had given Harry the birthday present he promised: a beautiful snowy-white owl. Harry thanked the large man profusely.

It was time, now, for the wands. Although Molly had originally given Ron his older brother Charlie's old wand, because Aerith had offered to supplement the budget of the Weasleys, it was decided to get him a new wand, alongside Harry's. And in order to blend in, Aerith and Jenova needed wands as well.

It was time, then, to go to Ollivander's. A dusty and cramped little store, filled with silence and solemnity.

Not long after they entered, Jenova suddenly whirled, her arm transforming into the bladed appendage she habitually used when fighting an adversary. When she saw her target, however, she sniffed. "I suggest you be careful in future, sneaking up on people like that," she said to the old man with pale, silvery, wide eyes.

The old man seemed startled by Jenova's near-attack, but recovered. "An interesting reaction. And an interesting instinctive transfiguration, if I may say so. I am familiar with many here, but I do not know your name, Miss…?"

"Jen Calamitas," Jenova said, using the alias she had agreed to go to Hogwarts under. The name Jenova was known in the legends of the Cetra Heritage, after all, and it wouldn't do to have people make connections. She realised that there was something vaguely familiar about the old man, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Aerith Gainsborough," Aerith said, introducing herself. "And this is my adoptive brother, Harry Gainsborough, though you may know him as Harry Potter."

"Indeed. I knew I would be seeing him soon, though not under a new name," the man said. "I am Garrick Ollivander, the proprietor." He smiled when he saw the Weasleys. "Ah, and Molly Weasley. I was hoping you would bring your youngest son to my establishment."

"We also need wands," Aerith said. "Jen and myself."

"You do? Oh my, what have you been doing with your magic? Well, I suppose it is not my place to ask questions," Ollivander said, before he approached Harry. He frowned at the faded scar. "I'm sorry to say," he muttered, "that I sold the wand that did that. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. With a phoenix feather core. Powerful. Very powerful. If I had known…"

"Mr Ollivander," Jenova said, "we have had a long day, and we have one ahead. Could we please get on with this?"

"Sorry, sorry," Ollivander apolgised, before setting to work, using an enchanted measuring tape to measure the four who needed wands.

It was Ron who got his first, a fourteen-inch willow wand, with a unicorn hair core. Aerith, surprisingly, got hers next: Pear, with a unicorn hair core(2). Jenova was next after a lot of tries: Hawthorn, with a dragon heartstring core(3).

But what of Harry? Wand after wand was tried, until finally, Ollivander tried one last one: an eleven inch holly one, with a phoenix feather.

The results were amazing, a fountain of golden and crimson sparks spraying out like a firework. Everyone was so excited, none more so than Harry himself. Even Ollivander was caught up, saying 'Bravo' over and over…until a shadow came over his features. He took the wand from Harry, replaced it in its box, and began wrapping it up. "Curious," he muttered to himself as he did so.

"What's curious?" Harry asked.

Ollivander fixed Harry with his strange stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Gainsborough. Every single wand."

Jenova raised an eyebrow. "Really? You must have one very good memory."

"I do, Miss Calamitas. And it so happens that the phoenix whose tail feathers reside in that wand gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious that Mr Gainsborough was chosen by this wand, when its brother…"

"…was Voldemort's," Aerith realised. "You said it had a phoenix feather core. I'm right, aren't I?"

"You are indeed perceptive, Miss Gainsborough. Yes, you are right. Curious indeed how things like this happen. I think we can expect great things from your adoptive brother. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things too. The most terrible of things, true, but great."

Unnerved, Harry and the others paid for their wands. But just as they left, Jenova's eyes met Ollivander's. "Stay safe, Miss Calamitas," he said in his quiet voice. "I would like to have a Reunion later."

Jenova blinked, and realised what there was about the man that seemed so familiar. He reeked of Jenova cells, her own cells. Oh, they felt as different to her as those controlled by Sephiroth did, but there was no mistake.

It seemed that she had a presence here after all.

* * *

The surprises didn't end there, though. When they got back, it was the afternoon, and a blonde-haired girl with pale eyes was playing with Ginny in the garden. Harry and Aerith didn't notice the strange expression that came over Jenova, however, when she saw the girl.

Ginny looked up. "Harry! You're back! Oh, this is a friend of mine who lives nearby. Luna Lovegood, this is Harry Pot- I mean, Harry Gainsborough, and his big sister, Aerith."

The girl got to her feet, and skipped over to them. There was something vaguely ethereal about the girl. "Hello, Harry," she said, in a dreamy voice. She looked at Aerith. "Nice to meet you, Aerith. You smell nice. Of flowers blooming in a church."

Aerith blinked at the girl's odd and eerily accurate pronouncement. "Thank you," she said, a little uncertainly.

But before she could continue, Jenova all but stammered out, "What…what _are_ you?"

Luna looked at Jenova, and smiled, a strange, dreamy smile. "You should know that, mother of my blood. I have waited long for this day." And then, if her words hadn't caused alarm in Harry or Aerith before, her next ones did. "The time is long overdue… _for our Reunion_."

Her blonde hair became silver, her eyes gained slitted pupils. It was like looking at Jenova's daughter…or Sephiroth's…

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, the standard Diagon Alley chapter, albeit a bit rushed, but with some interesting revelations. And a big cliffhanger at the end regarding Luna. But also a big revelation with Ollivander, too.**

 **1\. I mentioned in** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **that Sirius had read, at least,** ** _The Restaurant at the End of the Universe_** **.**

 **2\. Pear was chosen because, according to the Harry Potter Wiki, the perfect owner is an even-tempered, friendly person with hidden steel. Perfect for Aerith.**

 **3\. Hawthorn, according to the Harry Potter Wiki, is a wand wood good for those who are complex and conflicted, and adept at both healing and cursing. Draco has a wand like this, and I thought it would be perfect for the morally complex Jenova.**

 **CHAPTER 1 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Diagon Alley** **:** ** _Vivi's Theme_** **from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **The Brother Wands** **:** ** _Trail of Blood_** **(FTG).**

 **Luna** **:** ** _Terra_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. I wanted a theme for Luna that was eerie, but not sinister. Given that I chose a music piece by the same name (but from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **) for Harry's theme back in** ** _Birthday_** **, it seems particularly apposite.**


	3. Chapter 2: Two Reunions

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **TWO REUNIONS**

Cait Sith, Aerith and Harry, along with Jenova, stared at the silver-haired girl. Then again, so did everyone else present. Only Percy had gone back to his room before then.

Suddenly, Luna's silvery eyes seemed to strobe. All of those present blinked, and suddenly, Luna's hair and eyes were back to normal. "Excuse me, Ginny," Luna said to her friend, "but may I speak to them alone for a bit?"

Ginny blinked, and said, in something of a vague daze, "Yes. Yes, of course, Looney."

"Don't keep them too long, dear," Molly said, again sounding vaguely dazed. "It's been a long day."

"I won't," Luna said happily, and skipped merrily over to a corner of the garden. With some trepidation, the others followed.

Once they were in the corner, Cait Sith was the first one to speak. "Okay, lassie, what's yer deal? What did yeh do to yon Weasleys?"

"And why did I taste purple when it happened?" Harry asked(1).

"It was a modified Memory Charm," Luna explained, never losing the smile off her face. "I modified their memories, to make sure that they didn't remember anything too damaging. My mother taught me how to do so wandlessly when I was little, just in case." Her face fell. "I need it, you see."

"Because you're a Jenova hybrid," Aerith said.

Luna nodded, her hair once more becoming silver, and her eyes gaining slitted pupils. Unlike with Sephiroth, with the effect making him look sinister, with Luna, it merely made her look strange and ethereal. Disconcerting, true, but not actually sinister. "I like how you are withholding judgement until you know the facts, Aerith. I am sure many Cetra would sooner destroy me the moment they learned about my true nature. Many people have too many wrackspurts, clouds their mind."

"So…you're like Sephiroth," Harry said tentatively. "Only…not evil?"

"Evil is such a funny thing, isn't it?" Luna said. "What truly defines it? If theft is evil, do we condemn the thief who steals to survive? If murder is evil, what of the soldiers fighting in wars? If someone is evil, does that make the parent or the child evil?" She looked pointedly at Jenova when she said that.

Silence fell, until Jenova herself broke it. "When you said Reunion…"

"Well…I did it to get your attention. I wanted to be reunited with the mother of my blood, but…I'm not sure I want to go through with an actual Reunion. I like being me, as I am sure you do too."

Jenova nodded. She was currently split between two bodies, the experiment to share her consciousness between worlds a success, partly thanks to the cooperation of Minerva. Even now, her body back on Gaia was discussing with Reeve and Rufus the plans for Edge. It was distracting, but she was used to having her consciousness divided. In fact, she was the part of Jenova who had refused to submit to Sephiroth's will.

Eventually, she said, "I wasn't aware that any Cetra with my cells made it to this world."

"We were few in number," Luna said quietly. "Otherwise, Minerva would have detected us. We began to grow in numbers again, both in our cells, and those we infected. But the Cetra soon detected us. They purged us with fire. We were forced into hiding. Eventually, it was decided that we would not conquer, as we had initially thought. We were too few. Instead, we decided that survival was better. We attributed our abilities in magic and memory to being touched by the fae. We grew slowly and steadily. A few families and bloodlines were lost, to both Magicals and Muggles. But we survived. And we found ourselves changed. No longer did we even have the desire to conquer anymore. We just wanted to live, in peace. And yet, we could still hear your voice, from across the void between universes, still filled with malice and rapacious desire."

A solemn look came over Jenova at this. She had changed so much. She even looked ashamed at how she used to be.

"We formed, in secret, an organisation: The True Reunion. Through the centuries, we held the blood of Jenova secret and safe. But our goal was also to try and recreate our mother, and not long ago, we began to prepare a ritual for that purpose. As the war against Voldemort escalated, the work had to be expedited, for we thought that the new Jenova would help bring about his downfall, and we were worried that neither the Ministry of Magic, or Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, were doing enough."

"But…Voldemort fell," Aerith said. "Was that anything to do with the True Reunion?"

"No," Luna said, shaking her head. "We knew, somehow, that one of the Potters, probably Lily, did something. It was decided to go ahead with the ritual. After all, while Harry may have had the power to destroy Voldemort, it was decided that it would be prudent to have someone else of great power, a Jenova hybrid, just in case. My mother was chosen, for she had more Jenova cells in her veins than many of the others. And, more importantly, she was pregnant. With me. The ritual would siphon off most of the Jenova cells from those present, and fuse them with me."

"Shades of Hojo and Lucrezia," Aerith murmured.

Luna stared at her, unblinking, and then at Jenova. Jenova, almost instinctively, put the relevant memories to the forefront of her mind, and allowed the girl to see them. Luna assimilated the memories with a gasp. "Oh, poor Sephiroth," she murmured. "Never allowed to know a mother's touch. The True Reunion didn't want to make that mistake. Daddy deliberately Obliviated himself, removed his memory of the ritual. So too did most of those present, though one of them that you may have met, didn't. Mr Ollivander, the wandmaker."

"We met him," Jenova said.

"My mother retained her memory as well, deliberately. My parents loved me, and made sure I never felt true want. They tested the memory held within my cells, held me to a promise: to be a guardian of people." Luna wrinkled her nose. "Hojo was a pervert, only caring about results. And Lucrezia…she was never allowed to love her child. Sephiroth became a monster because he was shaped into being one. Shinra should not have been surprised that he slipped their leash and turned on them. My parents did care for me. I know this, because on the day she died, my mother's memories flooded into me. All those doubts I had, they were swept away. When Daddy found me crying, he thought it was because my mother had died. But it wasn't the only reason." Tears began to trickle from her eyes. "I knew, for the first time, how much she loved me."

As the girl in front of them began to weep, it was Harry who stepped forward and hugged her. Luna seemed surprised at the gesture, freezing, but then returning the embrace. Aerith then stepped forward, and hugged them both, soon followed by Jenova. A strange reunion.

* * *

Luna soon left, skipping her way back to her home, having said her goodbyes to everyone. Harry had gone inside to help Molly cook, something he insisted on doing, if only to help out. Ron and Ginny, along with the twins, had gone inside. Jenova, Aerith, and Cait Sith were sitting in the garden, at a table that had seen better days.

"Whaddya reckon about her?" Cait Sith asked.

"Jenova?" Aerith asked quietly. The alien entity was shaken since the encounter. "What do you think about Luna?"

Eventually, Jenova nodded. "We keep an eye on her, but…I felt her emotions. She was sincere, as far as I can tell. And she's right. Sephiroth's madness was, in part, having the truth kept from him, along with a lack of love. Luna, as far as I can tell, was told the truth from the time she could understand it. She has the memories of those who had donated her cells at her disposal. She's not quite at my level…but she's powerful. Her sanity is a bit shaky, though. I don't know whether these nargles and wrackspurts she speaks of are imaginary, or wildlife from the world I once ruled that she has given the names to things she can only see. But her madness is relatively benign. Take it from someone who has memories from a number of madmen."

Aerith began counting off on her fingers. "Hojo, Sephiroth…you got memories from Scarlet before she died?" she asked.

Jenova nodded. "A few. Debatably, you could count Cloud, but that was a combination of his absorbing Zack's memories, and Sephiroth influencing him. Once that was over, he's sane. A bit broody and depressive, but sane. Then, you have what happened to Genesis and his copies, before Minerva got to him. I have some of his memories. My point is, I know the various flavours of madness, and hers is relatively benign. There's no malice or intent to cause harm inside her, as far as I can tell. She's a year below Harry and Ron, though, so she won't be going to Hogwarts this year."

"Do I let the others know?" Cait Sith asked.

"Yes. But I'll let Vincent know, I'm with him at the moment," Jenova said. "It's tricky, splitting one's consciousness between two bodies. Like rubbing your belly and patting your head at the same time. But…well, Vincent is interested. But we're trying to get somewhere I found while on an expedition. Something Vincent will find very interesting…"

* * *

Vincent was finding the information Jenova had gotten him already quite interesting. "So, some of those infected with your cells did go to Earth," he mused as he climbed up the rocks. Jenova had taken him to a lake, not far from Golden Saucer and Cosmo Canyon, though isolated from these and other areas by a ring of mountains. Jenova had used her flight to get him here.

"Yes. It was a bit of a shock, frankly. I thought Minerva would have either killed them, or at least purged my cells from them," Jenova said. Unlike the Rufus-like white suit she normally wore in public, or the figure-hugging armour she extruded over her body in combat, today, she was dressed in a skintight body suit, blue in colour. Vincent hadn't seen it, but apparently Scarlet wore something similar when piloting the Proud-Clad, only in red. He wondered whether Jenova was trying to seduce him. It was a lost cause, as far as he was concerned. There was only one woman to him that mattered.

"And she is benign?" Had you spoken to Vincent a year ago (assuming he was out of his coffin), he would never have believed such a thing as a benign Jenova being was possible. But having fought alongside Jenova, he could believe it now.

"A little loopy, but relatively harmless. In a way, she is like Sephiroth, only raised with love, and an understanding of where she came from, and why. Oh, I'll still keep an eye on her, but at the moment, I think Voldemort and his agents are the ones to worry about. In any case, we're here."

Vincent found that they had come to the mouth of an ominous-looking cave. He frowned. "What's so special about this cave?" he asked.

"When I searched through the memories of those whose memories I had absorbed, I decided to scout around after seeing one lot. We were so busy preparing to get Harry back to Earth, I couldn't get here until last night. When I saw what was inside, I knew I had to bring you."

"What are you saying?" Vincent asked. "I have little time for games, Jenova."

"Says the man who spent how many years in a coffin? Says the man who is effectively immortal, barring accidents, thanks to Hojo?" Jenova remarked. "I daresay you have plenty of time for games. It might help you lighten up. Though I will say that what lies within the cave is no game. It is in deadly earnest, and is something that you should have been searching for once they got you out of the coffin. Other than Hojo, I mean."

Vincent glared at her, before beginning to walk into the cave. "By the way," Jenova called out, "I didn't hear a thank you for me for my killing Hojo."

Vincent ignored her.

Jenova sniffed. "You're welcome."

* * *

The cave was lit from within by an ethereal blue glow. Said glow came from a formation of Materia crystals, in the middle of a small pond of water.

And seated in front of the crystals, looking forlorn, and having not aged a day since he last saw them, was a person Vincent had never expected to see again. Not alive, nor dead.

The person looked up, and fear and grief were in their eyes. Their lips quivered for a moment, their eyes not willing to believe what they saw. Eventually, the person said, "Vincent? Is that you?"

Vincent, in utter astonishment, whispered a single name, one he was sure he was never going to say to the owner ever again.

"Lucrezia…"

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, not one reunion, but two. We get some insight into Luna's past, as well as a 'Jenova cult' (albeit a benign one) in the Wizarding World. And Vincent has finally met Lucrezia again. Keep in mind that, in** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **, they never got to meet Lucrezia. Although this is said in the next chapter, Jenova has already given Lucrezia the bad news about Sephiroth: that he was a deranged genocidal psychopath that they barely managed to stop. Lucrezia has been in mourning, and she doesn't trust Jenova. Jenova brought Vincent partly because she thought it would help Vincent, but also because Jenova thinks that Vincent is the only person Lucrezia will talk to.**

 **1\. A reference to an episode of** ** _Futurama_** **. I think it's** ** _The Why of Fry_** **. When Nibbler erases Fry's memory, I think Fry says "Why does everything taste purple?" or something like that.**

 **CHAPTER 2 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Luna's Past** **:** ** _Main Theme_** **(FTG).**

 **Vincent and Lucrezia** **:** ** _The Nightmare Begins_** **(FTG).**


	4. Chapter 3: Dark Deeds and Darker

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **DARK DEEDS AND DARKER ARTIFACTS**

"It's true, then, isn't it?" Lucrezia said. "Sephiroth…is dead."

"Sephiroth died a long time ago," Vincent said, as he held Lucrezia to him. "What we destroyed…it wasn't your son. Just a monstrous madman."

The young-looking woman with the brown hair sobbed gently. Vincent found it strange how she seemed to be dressed in little more than diaphanous robes that left little to the imagination(1). Eventually, she said, "What of Hojo? That…creature told me that she killed him."

"She did. Jenova was, perversely enough, one of our best allies." Vincent chuckled bitterly. "The irony was not lost on those present."

"And who else fought with you?"

"Many." Vincent began to talk of how he was found by a group of seven adventurers, who told him of Sephiroth. The eight grew to nine with the addition of Cid, and at the City of the Ancients, Harry made a tenth. Jenova became the eleventh, with Rufus, Reeve, and the Turks joining them after Scarlet's betrayal, and Sirius coming from another world.

Lucrezia listened to his admittedly abridged version of their adventure. For a time, she was quiet. Then, she said, "You blame yourself for what happened with Hojo and myself, don't you?"

"Is there anyone else to blame?"

"Me," Lucrezia said, without hesitation.

"You? I'm not sure what you saw in Hojo, but even so…"

"Remember that time when I broke up with you? When I couldn't be with you? Do you remember why?"

Vincent thought back, and his eyes widened. "My father…Grimoire…that report I saw…"

"He died in this very cave. We were investigating my theories…and something killed him. I brought him here…" She shook her head. "But it's more than that now."

"Why?"

"After Hojo shot you, and experimented on you, your body began to deteriorate. You were dying. I couldn't bear to see that happen, so I tried something desperate. I channelled the very essence of Chaos into your body. It barely saved your life…but condemned you to something worse."

"If it's all the same to you," Vincent remarked dryly, "I'd prefer to be alive than dead."

"Don't joke about it!" Lucrezia snapped.

"I'm not joking. Much," Vincent admitted. "I _am_ grateful that you saved my life. At least it meant more than Hojo using me as an experiment."

"That's what _he_ said _I_ was using you for," Lucrezia said bitterly. "He said that I was using you as little more than an experiment to further my theories. The perverse thing was, he sounded like he was congratulating me, not demeaning me."

"Hojo was a bastard," Vincent said. "He used me, he used you, he used everyone he could. He wasn't a scientist. He was a sociopath and a megalomaniac who used science as an excuse to commit twisted crimes against nature and morality. Maybe if you had been allowed to raise Sephiroth, this whole mess wouldn't have happened. He may have grown up to be a fine soldier, and a better man."

"Instead, he became a monster. An abomination," Lucrezia said quietly, as if scarcely believing it.

"That wasn't your fault, Lucrezia, any more than it was mine. It took me a while to see that my sins were those of inaction, and not because I actively participated. Yours was agreeing to participate, true, but…you didn't turn Sephiroth into what he was. Shinra, Hojo, and the madness of Genesis Rhapsodos, they turned Sephiroth into a monster."

"And my own influence," Jenova said quietly, entering the cave. "I have to admit, to my shame, that I began calling to my son, to set me free, and to take vengeance on my gaolers, when I sensed him in Nibelheim. I encouraged his madness to some degree, only to have him turn on me. At least Genesis and myself are trying to make up for our sins."

"You have a long way to go," Vincent said. Not with any anger or hatred. Just a cold statement of fact. "Please…I want to be alone with Lucrezia."

Jenova nodded, and left the cave once more. Neither Vincent or Lucrezia saw the tears dripping from her eyes…

* * *

Sirius never thought he would ever again be in his ancestral home of 12 Grimmauld Place, and yet, here he was. It was still dark and infested with curses, pests (both mundane and magic) and dark magic that he would need to spend time cleaning out, as nobody had been here for years. And, of course, there was that portrait of his mother, that old screech owl. He had to be quiet at times, lest he woke her, and had her shouting the house down with her screams of blood-traitors and Mudbloods. But he now had a purpose.

During their last discussion with Minerva, it was decided that they could return to the Planet via Floo that she managed to connect to the church in the Midgar slums. The Burrow, Grimmauld Place, and Hogwarts were the only places connected so far. To travel, one had to use the Floo powder as normal, call out 'the Goddess' Gate', and step through. Which meant that, if necessary, Sirius could beat a hasty escape from any Aurors after him.

He was also amazed at the attitude change of Kreacher. Once the wizened, ancient house elf had been told by Sirius that he could help finish what Regulus started, the house elf became a little less cranky and bitter. In fact, he seemed pleased, in a surly, acerbic way. Oh, he still called Sirius a blood-traitor, and muttered imprecations against Mudbloods and the like, but there was a faint glimmer of respect in the old house elf that wasn't there before.

"Does nasty, blood-traitor master think he can destroy the horcrux?" Kreacher asked, after he had set the locket down on the table in front of Sirius. Despite his words, he actually seemed vaguely hopeful.

Sirius frowned as he examined it. "I will try. And if not, we can try Dumbledore." He had found a wand that suited him amongst the family collection. He didn't like it, but it was the best suited to his magic, and it might be too risky to try Ollivander, or any of the shops in Knockturn Alley. He pointed the wand at the locket, and spoke two words that he thought he'd never say. " _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ "

Green light lanced out, and hit the locket. Unfortunately, the net result seemed to be sending the locket skidding across the table and onto the floor. Kreacher ran over, and checked the locket. "Nasty, nasty magic is still there!" he snarled.

"Damn!" Sirius yelled. Shaking his head, he said, "Kreacher, we're not giving up. I'll be damned if I let my brother's death be in vain." He used a Levitation Charm to bring the locket back onto the table. He wasn't going to touch the thing if he could help it. As he went for the Floo to contact Dumbledore, he thought to himself, _I should've known it wouldn't be this easy_ …

* * *

The next morning, Harry was regaling Ginny and Ron, along with the twins, with a story of his adventure. Now he was talking about what had happened in Icicle Inn, and on the Great Glacier. They hung onto his every word.

It was after he talked about the Snow-Woman that Ron frowned. "Hang a moment. What is a Limit Break?"

Aerith, who was banned by Molly from helping in the kitchen (Aerith had helped her mother out in the home back home), chose to answer that. "It's difficult to explain, even for someone who has used them often. A Limit Break is a powerful ability innate to a person. During the heat of battle, when someone takes enough damage, the surge of emotions brings forth a personal power. For most people, it is a devastating attack. My Limit Breaks, however, are generally more around healing and protection. The first one I discovered was Healing Wind, which allows me to heal myself and my allies of all wounds. Another one, Fury Brand, actually allows me to transfer my Limit Break power to my allies, allowing them to use Limit Breaks. One that I learned not long before meeting Harry was Great Gospel. Not only does it fully heal myself and my allies, it actually makes us invincible from harm for a brief period."

"You should see Cloud's ultimate Limit Break," Harry said with a grin. "Omnislash is basically Cloud slashing at the enemy with his sword a lot of times. Fifteen times, isn't it?" he asked Aerith.

"It was," Jenova said with a wince. "I felt it myself, remember? Very painful, and so was Tifa's Martial Arts Chain(2)."

"But…Cloud was nasty to you," Ginny said to Harry, her face showing confusion. "You're talking about him like you are friends now."

"We _are_ friends. Keep in mind, Cloud was in a bad way," Harry pointed out. "He had memories from another guy, and Sephiroth was influencing him. Once you got that out of him, he's pretty nice when you get to know him. A bit cold, but a decent guy. You met him, Ginny, didn't you?"

Ginny nodded. The young man had been somewhat aloof and quiet, but had smiled at Ginny. She had liked Tifa, the woman who seemed to be his girlfriend, more.

"There you go." Harry smiled. Then he became solemn. "That was the first time I killed someone."

"Excuse me?" Jenova asked, raising an eyebrow. "You did destroy my first form, you know."

"You were a monster then," Aerith said. "Sephiroth set you on us, and you attacked. That was before we knew you were anything other than a monster."

"I've mellowed," was Jenova's only response.

Harry nodded. "But the Snow-Woman, she actually looked human. And I saw her die in a very horrible manner in front of my eyes. But if I didn't do that…well, Aerith and Elena would have died. I sometimes still have nightmares about that. And of Scarlet."

Aerith grimaced, remembering that day. Scarlet was holding Harry hostage, and was making no secret of the fact that she wanted them all dead. Sirius had tried to use a Summoning Spell (as distinct from an actual Summon) to rip Harry from Scarlet's grasp, but failed, and only Harry doing an instinctive Apparition allowed for a chance to stop Scarlet safely. Barrett had shot her with his gun-arm, effectively eviscerating her, a traumatising thing for a ten-year old child to watch.

What made it worse was that Harry, in the space of that day, had thought his godfather had died, was forced to flee from a mutated Hojo, and was forced to kill Diamond Weapon. Scarlet's brutal death was merely the capper to a long and traumatic day.

To their credit, Ron and Ginny looked sympathetic. They had heard a little about Shinra's one-time Head of Weapons Research, and temporary President. And Sirius comparing the blonde-haired woman to the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange helped give them an idea of what she was like.

Any further thought on the matter was interrupted when the flames of the fireplace flared green. Aerith, Jenova, and Harry jumped in fright. They were still unused to the concept of Floo travel, though they knew they'd be using it a lot to go between Earth and Gaia, and here.

"Harry? Miss Gainsborough? Miss Calamitas?" Dumbledore asked, his face floating eerily amongst the flames.

"We're here," Aerith said, going to the fireplace, taking Harry with her. Jenova strode over as well.

"Good. Would you mind coming through? We have a matter of some delicacy to discuss."

* * *

Harry felt bad about leaving the Weasleys out of this, but Dumbledore had impressed on him the very delicate nature of dealing with horcruxes. Not just because they were not well-known, but also because if Voldemort learned that his horcruxes were being targeted, he might take measures to hide them elsewhere.

Gathered in the rather grim kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place was a fairly motley group. Harry, Jenova, and Aerith were there with Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, and Kreacher. They were all looking at the locket.

"So…" Harry said uncertainly, "you think I can open it?"

"It's a possibility," Snape said, looking down at the locket grimly. "Mr Potter…I mean, Gainsborough, I am an expert in the Dark Arts. And it is easy to discern that handling this locket would be a considerably bad idea. It is steeped in dark magic, and not just that of the horcrux. It is resistant to spells, as Black has found out. The house elf has already attempted to open it physically. If this is indeed the Locket of Salazar Slytherin, then it may be possible that it cannot be opened, unless it is commanded to do so in Parseltongue."

Jenova nodded. "And it would be difficult for me to try and extract the soul now. Opening the locket may make it vulnerable, one way or another."

Harry bit his lip, somewhat uncertain. "But…I haven't used Parseltongue that often. I've tried it out occasionally, but…"

"Harry," Sirius said gently, "just try. See that sigil on the front? It looks like a snake, doesn't it? Pretend it's a real one. Just say…'open'."

Harry nodded, gathered himself, and then said, "Open."

Snape sighed. "That was _English_ , Mr Pot-Gainsborough. Concentrate. There is a considerable amount at stake here."

"Severus…" Dumbledore rebuked quietly.

Harry closed his eyes, then opened them again, concentrating on the sigil, the strange 'S' shape like a snake. Once more, he said, " _Open_." But now, he realised, given the looks on everyone's faces, that he had managed it.

The locket suddenly snapped open. And behind the door, in picture windows, were a pair of eyes. Only one of those present, Dumbledore, recognised those eyes: the eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle, before they were mutated by his transformation into Voldemort.

Everyone present recoiled at the waves of dark magic coming from the locket, but Jenova recovered most rapidly, darting forward and gripping the locket. Her jaw seemed to distend grotesquely, and a dark smoke was drawn into her mouth from the locket. Accompanying this was a faint, thin scream, inhuman and fearful. Then, it was gone, and Jenova's jaw was back to normal. She licked her lips in grim satisfaction. "Nasty."

"Did…did you just destroy the horcrux?" Snape demanded, his eyes comically wide.

"I _ate_ the horcrux. It's what I did to the one in Harry's head," Jenova said. She belched quietly. "Excuse me. It's repeating on me." She blinked. "Oh my, this is new."

"What is?" Aerith asked.

"I know another of his horcruxes. A diadem."

"The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think so," Jenova said. "I know where that one is too. Hogwarts. Somewhere called the Room of Requirement."

"I know that room," Dumbledore said. "It's one of the best-kept secrets of Hogwarts. We'll go there later, once the term starts. Did you learn of any others?"

"The memory's hazy. A book of some kind." She shook her head. "I don't know exactly what. I think he's deliberately obscuring some of his memories with this fragment."

"Occlumency," Snape muttered.

"Occlu-what?" Aerith asked.

Snape sighed, and turned to her. "Legilimency and Occlumency are related magical arts relating to the mind. Occlumency requires guarding the mind against attack. Legilimency is a means of attacking the mind, usually in order to gain information through the person's memories. Skilled Legilimens are able to interpret the complexities and layers of a mind and its memories to discern the truth." His nose wrinkled in a sneer. "The Muggles call it 'mind-reading', but a mind is not a book, but a blizzard of thought and memory and emotion."

"Horrible," Aerith said. "So Voldemort used Legilimency?"

Snape gave a sardonic smirk. "It often pleased him not only to rip enemies' secrets from their minds, but to cause them great pain in doing so, sometimes inserting hellish visions or even false memories. Legilimency doesn't just involve magic, however. Most of it is rather mundane: learning to read body language and facial expressions. An intelligent Muggle should be able to learn that, or Occlumency, which involves ordering the mind in such a way to prevent intrusion."

"Hmm," Jenova pondered. "I wonder…"

"What?" Snape asked.

"Snape, am I right to believe that you know something of these arts?"

"By many standards, Jenova, I am considered an expert," Snape said airily.

"As am I," said Dumbledore.

"I've never used actual magical Legilimency," Sirius said, "but the Marauders learned Occlumency as soon as we could."

"Well…Dumbledore, then," Jenova said. "Please, try and use Legilimency on me."

Dumbledore frowned, bringing his wand out cautiously. "Are you sure, Jenova?"

"Not at all. This is an experiment." Jenova shrugged. "And as Hojo would've said, no experiment is without risk. I believe the colloquial term back home is ' _come at me, bro_ '."

"Very well. _Legilimens!_ " Dumbledore pointed his wand at Jenova, whose eyes widened, she staggered back, only to stare back at Dumbledore, who stumbled back.

"Well," Jenova said, rubbing her head. "That was interestingly unpleasant. Different to how Sephiroth tried to attack me mentally. Very different. But easier to intercept. And not because of the power of the attack."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sephiroth has attacked me with less powerful mental attacks, but they worked more effectively. Whereas your Legilimency was more powerful, but it didn't get far enough before I could push it back. Has your attack ever been repulsed like that?"

"Not quite like that, no," Dumbledore said.

"Maybe it's an innate mental defence for Jenova cells. Being creatures that can manipulate thought and memory, perhaps we have innate defences to any attack other than that inflicted by other Jenova organisms." She indicated Harry. "Try him, I want to see if the Jenova cells within him will help keep him safe."

"Jenova…" Aerith said warningly.

"No…" Harry said quietly. "I'll try. I mean, it's an important thing to have, this Occlumency, isn't it?"

"It was certainly important to me," Snape said softly. "When dealing with anything to do with the Dark Lord, Mr P-Gainsborough, Occlumency is certainly an excellent skill to possess."

"It's not something to do lightly, however," Dumbledore said solemnly. "To invade someone's mind is a very dark thing to do."

"I'm willing," Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded, before aiming his wand. " _Legilimens_."

Harry felt a spike of stone seemingly enter his head. It wasn't painful, but it was far from pleasant. He reeled back. His mind, almost instinctively, pushed back against the intrusion.

Dumbledore staggered back, before nodding. "It seems that your supposition was correct, Jenova. Harry was easier to use Legilimency on, but he was still able to repulse me easily."

"Hmm. And there may be reasons for him being easier to attack," Jenova said thoughtfully. "It may be because, unlike me, he only has a small amount of Jenova cells within him. Or it may be because he has less experience with mental defence. When I first entered his mind, I did do some reinforcing to make sure he didn't fall under Sephiroth's influence, or at least not easily."

"It'd still be a good idea to have him trained in Occlumency," Sirius said quietly. "We can't guarantee that Voldemort will be kept out. And since we're going after the horcruxes…"

He left the sentence hanging in the air. But everyone present knew what was at stake. They needed to go after Voldemort hard and fast, destroy the horcruxes, and render Voldemort mortal and vulnerable. Or else things would get ugly…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, Vincent and Lucrezia have a reunion, and another horcrux is destroyed.**

 **Not much more to say here. And I can't think of anything for the soundtrack for this chapter.**

 **1\. Seriously, why is Lucrezia in the Mako crystal (in the cutscenes of** ** _Dirge of Cerberus_** **) wearing those weird diaphanous robes?**

 **2\. That's my own name for Tifa's Limit Break. It's a chain of martial arts moves.**


	5. Chapter 4: Plans for the Horcruxes

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **PLANS FOR THE HORCRUXES**

Aerith and Harry had headed back to the Weasleys, while Jenova remained behind with Dumbledore, Snape, and Sirius. Kreacher had been given the locket, much to Sirius and Dumbledore's mirth, and Snape's annoyance (he was the Head of Slytherin, of course). Jenova stayed behind because she, having eaten two of Voldemort's horcruxes, was to stay behind for the discussion.

It was Dumbledore who began. "We'll have to move quickly to begin destroying the other horcruxes, now that we know what they are, and where they are, for the most part. Severus, will Voldemort be aware of the destruction of the horcruxes?"

"It's entirely possible," Snape said quietly. He was debatably more learned in the Dark Arts than Dumbledore, and Dumbledore knew that Snape knew many things in that area that he didn't. "Horcrux lore is thin on the ground, and anything to do with multiple horcruxes even more so. It's not outside the realm of possibility, but I do not know. It may depend on the fraction of the soul within the horcrux."

"So, the larger the fragment, the bigger the reaction?" Jenova asked.

"Possibly. Considering that you somehow…consumed the horcruxes, how much larger was the soul fragment?"

"Considerably larger. I can't tell how big it was, though, and Voldemort's memories are hazy on what order he created them in," Jenova said.

"Does the soul still live within you?" Dumbledore asked.

Jenova chuckled sardonically. "It depends on what you mean by that. The life-force of the soul fragments have been integrated into me, but, well, have you got a means of detecting horcruxes?"

"To a degree," Dumbledore said, before he used his wand, and muttered an incantation. Jenova felt nothing, and Dumbledore nodded, satisfied. "I used a similar spell on Harry. The horcruxes do not exist in you, at least not as horcruxes."

"Indeed," Jenova said. "I have some of the memories and knowledge, true, but that's like saying your body integrates the fats and proteins from the animal you eat. I can _house_ multiple souls, true, but I'm not housing Voldemort's. Besides, I like being by myself in here. I didn't absorb Hojo's soul, after all. Just eating it left a bad taste in the mouth."

"Let's get back to the point," Dumbledore said, wincing at the reminder of her unusual and unnatural abilities. "We know of most of the horcruxes. Jenova, you said that he was obsessed with the number seven, so let us assume that he intended to split his soul into seven parts, with the soul within his body intended to be the seventh part. We shall assume for the moment that he also intended to create his last horcrux with Harry's death, until we know better. That means, not counting Voldemort himself and the horcrux formerly within Harry, there are, or were, five to deal with. Three of them seem to be objects associated with the Founders of Hogwarts, and of those, Slytherin's Locket has been dealt with. Two seem to be unconnected to that, but may be of personal significance to Voldemort. A ring that belonged to the Gaunts, and a book of some kind."

"Do we have some kind of whiteboard or blackboard for this?" Jenova asked.

Dumbledore pulled out his wand, and asked Sirius, "Is there anything you don't mind transfigured?"

"Not at all, but choose carefully. Kreacher will pitch a fit, otherwise."

Dumbledore nodded, before choosing a rather dilapidated cupboard, and turning it into a blackboard and chalk. "Damn," Jenova said, moving over to it. "That's impressive. How do you turn something made of wood and crockery into a blackboard and chalk?"

"With difficulty. Transfiguration is easier when objects share properties. One of Harry's first lessons in Transfiguration will be turning a matchstick into a needle, because they are of similar size and shape, but it is easier to turn something made of, say, cardboard into wood because cardboard originally is derived from wood. It won't be permanent, either."

"That's fine," Jenova said, before taking up the chalk and scrawling down the following.

 _HORCRUXES:_

 _1\. Voldemort's soul._

 _2\. Harry fragment. ELIMINATED._

 _3\. Slytherin Locket. ELIMINATED._

 _4\. Gaunt ring. Location: Little Hangleton._

 _5\. Hufflepuff Cup. Location: Bellatrix Lestrange vault, Gringotts._

 _6\. Rowena Ravenclaw Diadem. Location: Room of Requirement, Hogwarts._

 _7\. Some sort of book. Location: unknown._

Snape peered at the list critically. "The Diadem is sure to be the easiest one to deal with, if only because we know exactly where it is."

"And we can summon it up easily enough," Dumbledore said. "The Room of Requirement is a secret room that can only be accessed in a certain place by pacing back and forth while thinking on a certain need several times. I discovered it once decades ago, while I was out on patrol, and needed to relieve myself. To my astonishment, a door to a room filled with chamberpots appeared. I have since learned more about it. It is a hidden treasure of Hogwarts, filled with all sorts of things."

"You mean other than chamberpots," Jenova said wryly.

"The Gaunt ring may not be so troublesome," Snape said, going over to the blackboard and tapping the relevant point. "It's the other two that worry me. Gringotts is famous for its security and discretion. The goblins don't like holding dark artifacts in their vaults, it's true, but they also like to have a damned good reason before allowing anything to be removed or destroyed, especially if it isn't the vault owner doing it."

"And don't forget, we're making a big assumption in believing it to be at Gringotts," Sirius pointed out.

Snape turned to Sirius. "An intelligent comment, Black? Living on another world certainly helps your mind."

"It's true that it's an assumption that Bellatrix Lestrange has put the Cup into the Lestrange vault at Gringotts," Dumbledore said, intervening as Sirius scowled. "But it's not an unreasonable one. It was probably considered valuable enough to be placed into the vault. But Severus is right: getting the goblins to cooperate will take time and very careful negotiations. And I don't want any news to leak back to Voldemort."

"If I can get my name cleared," Sirius said quietly, "I may be able to do something about that. Bella was a Black, after all, and under our traditions, we may be able to seek reparations for breaking clauses of the marriage contract. And if my name is cleared, I will be the Head of House Black."

Snape snorted. "Malfoy won't let you if he can help it. Your cousin Narcissa is his wife, remember?"

"How could I forget? So, what, he wants to become Head of House Black?"

"He wants his son, and my godson, Draco, to become the Head," Snape said.

"Over my dead body," Sirius snapped.

"With you disappearing, I believe that won't be necessary," Snape drawled. "Malfoy discussed trying to make a fake body with me. Unfortunately, it's a too-complex process to simply replicate a body long enough for it to be accepted as real. And my specialty is in Potions and the Dark Arts, not Transfiguration."

"Leaving aside the ring and the Cup," Dumbledore said, "the last horcrux is the most concerning. All that we know is that it is a book of some kind."

"And looking for that is going to be the proverbial needle in a haystack," Sirius said. "It could be hidden anywhere. Amongst the possessions of a Death Eater, or in a library. Hogwarts Library, perhaps?"

"Maybe," Snape said, "but the Dark Lord would probably prefer to spread the horcruxes around, to keep them in relatively isolated places. The Diadem would probably be the only one at Hogwarts. This book would have to be hidden somewhere else, and probably not within easy reach of anyone."

"Jenova, you can't sense where a horcrux is, can you?" Dumbledore asked.

Jenova frowned, contemplating the question. She could sense where other collections of Jenova cells were, and she could sense Lifestream and Mako. But sense a horcrux? "I don't know," she admitted. "When we seek out the one at Hogwarts, I'll try to see if I can sense it. But I'm not a bloodhound, you know."

"You're much too sexy to be one," Sirius said with a lascivious smirk. "And scary."

"Black…" Snape said warningly.

"Snape, I've known Jenova longer than you have. And I've learned at what point to draw the line," Sirius said.

"After I threatened to melt his reproductive organs, to be precise," Jenova smirked, leaving all three men to wince involuntarily.

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, Snape and Dumbledore were conversing in the latter's office. Snape was pacing like a caged beast, while Dumbledore sat in his chair, projecting serenity that he didn't actually feel. "So, two horcruxes down, perhaps four to go, discounting the Dark Lord's soul," Snape growled. "If Voldemort becomes aware of the horcruxes' destruction…"

"I know, Severus. My next port of call will be the ring at Little Hangleton, and I will need your help."

Snape snorted. "My obedience, you mean. I'm only going along with this more overtly because I don't want the Dark Lord to learn of what I've done. And what has been done to me."

This last sentence made Dumbledore frown. "What do you mean, Severus?"

Snape rolled back the sleeve of his robe over his right arm. "Look," he hissed.

Dumbledore said, bemused, "I see noth…oh."

"Indeed," Snape said acidly.

"Severus, this is wonderful! When did the Dark Mark disappear?"

"I believe it happened when we went to Potter's birthday. I felt a pain there when we went through the Goddess' Gate. After we came back, Minerva came to me in my sleep. The deity of that other world, I mean, not McGonagall. She had managed to remove the Dark Mark from me. She said it was partly because she didn't want me caught between conflicting loyalties. And partly because it was something I regretted, amongst so many," Snape said. He clutched his forearm. "I also saw Lily in my dreams. We…spoke."

Dumbledore nodded, but remained silent. Minerva had brought his sister Ariana to him in his dreams, and he knew what it was probably like. It certainly made his desire for the Resurrection Stone far less than it had been.

"The thing I am worried about is, if the Dark Lord does decide to summon his Death Eaters to his side, then what will happen? How will I explain the removal of the Dark Mark?"

"Those are questions for the future, I hope." Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "As it happens, Voldemort, or at least one of his servants, has made their move. There was an attempted break-in at Gringotts on the day Harry and the others went there. I've moved the Stone to its current hiding place."

"I'm still uneasy with these precautions," Snape said. "I know we're setting a trap, but Pomona and Filius' rooms seem too easy. Minerva's room is passable for any decent chess player."

"Voldemort will believe the precautions to be easy, and hopefully, it will blind him to the trap I've set. That being said, I've read your logic puzzle poem," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Lateral thinking is a rare art amongst people. And your poem is fairly good, too."

"Thank you," Snape said acidly. Dumbledore wasn't trying to be patronising, but he managed it all the same. That being said, it was true. Even Muggles had better lateral thinking skills than most wizards and witches, and even then, it was rare for a Muggle to be truly brilliant.

"Perhaps in future you could test some students in logic and lateral thinking," Dumbledore said. "Particularly outside Ravenclaw. They tend to be better there, but in Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff…"

" _Especially_ in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," Snape sighed. "I sincerely hope we get some with intelligence than the dunderheads we usually get."

"There's a Muggleborn girl, actually, whom you might be interested in," Dumbledore said. "A Hermione Granger. Minerva's praise of her has been effusive. She devours our texts like a hungry beast."

"I do hope that she doesn't think swotting up will impress me," Snape sighed. "Though I daresay she might make the classroom a bit more intelligent by her presence, especially if she goes into Ravenclaw. I'm hoping Mr Potter will take my advice and revise the text."

"Severus, you did very well with your suggestion," Dumbledore said. "Actually, I am told that Miss Gainsborough has a gift for you when she comes to Hogwarts for the staff meeting: she is bringing a selection of the curative potions from her world. She thought you might be interested."

Snape was, despite himself. "Did she say what they were?"

"She did discuss them with me. What they call a Potion is what they use to heal wounds. Ethers are used to recharge magical energy, revitalise the core. Elixirs do both, healing wounds and revitalising magical ability, and are understandably somewhat rare and expensive. There's also something called a Phoenix Down, an artificial form of real phoenix down."

Fawkes, who was standing on his perch as usual, chose this moment to emit a sardonic trill.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed, old friend, but while not as potent as your tears, this potion can revive someone who is dying or recently dead, within perhaps an hour at most. They have similar magic called Life magic. It has its limits, though(1). There is also a variety of substances used for ailments that monsters inflict on their victims. There's even potions that permanently enhance innate abilities like intelligence and strength, even magical power, although they are extremely rare, and she was only able to get one spare for you: a Magic Source."

Snape was intrigued. If Aerith was bringing him such a thing, it might prove an interesting diversion. Busy though he was, he did try to make time to look at new things if he could. Snape may be an appalling teacher, but he could never be said to be one who sat on his laurels, at least as far as learning about Potions or the Dark Arts were concerned. Perhaps it might make the first year teaching Harry Potter…no, Harry Gainsborough, tolerable.

Somehow, though, Snape doubted it. Between horcruxes and the Philosopher's Stone, that old phrase 'may you live in interesting times' seemed applicable…

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Discussion of the horcruxes, where to look for them, and a look at Snape's lightening character. Snape's still a dick, but he's becoming less of one. You'll notice that he's still finding it hard to call him anything other than 'Mr Potter'. This was originally by accident (coming back to this fic after a while did that), but I changed it a bit so that it's more about Snape struggling to remember that this is Harry Gainsborough.**

 **Part of the reason for Jenova being unable to discern the diary is for story reasons: I want to recreate** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **if I come to do it, so Jenova hasn't had much luck in absorbing Voldemort's memories of it. She knows it's a book of some kind, and that's it.**

 **No soundtrack again. For reference, see the character themes at the end of** ** _Birthday_** **.**

 **1\. I mentioned in** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **that Sephiroth's sword inhibits the use of Life magic and Phoenix Downs, in order to explain away Aerith and President Shinra's death in the game. I also decided that, if the person is dead too long, they can't be revived.**


	6. Chapter 5: Meeting Colleagues

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **MEETING COLLEAGUES**

August 31st had arrived, and tomorrow, Harry, the Weasley children (barring Ginny), Aerith and Jenova would be embarking on the Hogwarts Express. Technically, with Aerith and Jenova being new staff, they wouldn't need to take the Hogwarts Express, but they wanted to stick close to Harry. Cait Sith was coming to Hogwarts as well, with his presence being explained away as Aerith's magical toy and familiar.

Jenova was currently poring over her textbooks. Between these and what memories she got from Voldemort's horcruxes, she was more than ready to assist teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. And Snape was willing, albeit grudgingly, to advise her. He had wanted the position for years, but had confided in Jenova that there was supposedly a curse on the position, reputedly laid by none other than Voldemort himself. Supposedly, for the past few decades, and despite the best efforts of cursebreakers, DADA teachers only lasted a year before leaving the post. Some merely resigned, or, in one good case, got promoted. Others got fired for a number of offences, with at least one having had dalliances with older students. And more than a few either got badly injured, or even killed.

After some negotiations, this was the position she would hold at Hogwarts: assistant DADA teacher, and assistant Transfiguration teacher. She had been told of a little trick that the Transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall, had for her first year students, and wanted to enhance that.

She thought about the current incumbent in the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching position, a man by the name of Quirinus Quirrell. She hadn't met the man yet, but apparently he was a former Muggle Studies teacher who had an interest in Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had gone on a sabbatical for the past year to get some practical experience, and had returned only relatively recently. Dumbledore had shared his suspicions with Jenova and Aerith that he may be the agent of Voldemort. Harry would only be notified about this if necessary, as if Quirrell was actually possessed by Voldemort, he may share Legilimency abilities, and while Harry shared Jenova's immunity, his body language might give him away. Aerith was trusted, though Dumbledore resolved to work on Occlumency with her when she reached Hogwarts.

Jenova and Aerith did need to attend a staff meeting later today, for which they would go by Floo. They'd only be needed for an hour, and then they'd be back.

To be perfectly honest, Jenova was actually looking forward to the staff meeting, and so was Aerith. They wanted to meet their colleagues and comrades. They'd met Dumbledore, Snape, and Hagrid already.

* * *

Aerith smiled as she and Jenova were led by Dumbledore into the staff common room. She gazed around at the wizards and witches gathered there. She recognised Snape, who was standing by himself, scowling as he so often did, though he acknowledged Aerith and Jenova's entrance with an almost imperceptible nod. She had brought the medicinal items selection with her today for him. And Hagrid was hard to miss, of course.

"Ah, so we're all here, are we? Good, good," Dumbledore said. "I would like to introduce you all to the latest additions to the Hogwarts staff. Miss Aerith Gainsborough will be helping Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, and is a skilled healer. Miss Jen Calamitas will be a teaching assistant, primarily with Defence Against the Dark Arts, though she will be helping with Transfiguration as well."

"It's good to meet you," Aerith said with a smile.

"Likewise," Jenova purred.

The first to be introduced, Professor Minerva McGonagall, turned out to be a rather stern-faced but vaguely maternal older woman. She seemed vaguely disapproving of Jenova, and Aerith knew why: McGonagall was one of the few people trusted with the secret of where Harry ended up, and knew something of Jenova's past. And Jenova seemed to be wary: after all, McGonagall had a first name identical to the name of Gaia's guardian deity. McGonagall was the Transfiguration teacher, Head of Gryffindor, and Deputy Headmistress.

Professor Filius Flitwick, by contrast, was short, a dwarf, though he may have had goblin blood in him. Despite being the Head of Ravenclaw, the diminutive, dark-haired man exuded an energy that belied both his stature and intellect.

Professor Pomona Sprout reminded Aerith of her mother, and of herself in attitude. The dumpy witch with the warm heart was the Head of Hufflepuff.

Professor Quirrell turned out to be a pale, nervous-looking young man wearing a turban, claimed to be a gift from an African prince he had defeated a zombie for. If he was acting, then he was doing a fairly good job, Aerith thought.

Professor Cuthbert Binns was a wrinkled old man, and a ghost, of all things. Apparently there were a lot of ghosts in Hogwarts, although Binns was the only teacher (of History) who was a ghost.

Professor Sybil Trelawny reminded Aerith of at least one person she had met in Cosmo Canyon, with thick glasses and a spaced-out demeanour that also reminded her of Luna Lovegood. She was the Divination teacher.

Other names and faces went by. There was the fairly young, dark-skinned Astronomy teacher, Aurora Sinistra. There was the pointed-faced Septima Vector, Arithmancy teacher. There was the blonde-haired and gentle-faced Charity Burbage, now the Muggle Studies teacher (having taken over from Quirrell last year while he was on sabbatical for his DADA preparation). There was the flying instructor, Rolanda Hooch, with golden, hawk-like eyes. There was the grizzled Sylvanus Kettleburn, teacher of Care of Magical Creatures, who had at least one artificial limb. There was the sour-faced Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts (and a Squib, apparently).

Once introductions were over, the meeting began in earnest. Aerith noticed that the ones who usually made interjections were Snape and Filch. She had gotten used to Snape's snide attitude, though she did notice that his barbs had a slightly less acidic tone than when she first met him. Filch was another matter, seeming to be bitter towards students. Then again, given that he was a Squib in a magic school, that might not be surprising. He may envy the students for the magic they had, but he didn't, despite being born of magical parents.

Once the meeting was over, Aerith went over to Snape, and presented him with the box of medicinal items. "Dumbledore may have told you about these already, but these are medicinal potions from our world."

"He did tell me," Snape said, taking the box. He didn't smile, but he gave a nod of acknowledgement. And, sincerely, he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Aerith said with a smile.

Before they left, Professor McGonagall took them aside, bringing them to another adjacent room. Erecting some privacy spells, she then turned to Jenova and Aerith. "I have to say, I am grateful to both of you for looking after Harry. I knew leaving him with those Muggles was a mistake. I thought that they were the worst kind of Muggles, but I didn't realise they'd go that far."

"It's a shame you didn't try and visit, but I guess Dumbledore had something to do with that," Aerith said.

McGonagall nodded, her face rather forlorn. "To my shame," she said quietly. "Lily and James were dear to me. And they would be proud of their boy, if what Dumbledore has told me is true."

"It is," Aerith said. "And they are." Upon noticing McGonagall's confused look, Aerith explained how Minerva, the goddess, could resurrect the spirits of the dead in certain parts of the Planet.

"So, is it true? Did he help you stop this…Sephiroth person?" McGonagall asked.

"He had a key role to play," Aerith said. "As did we all. Not that someone his age should have had to fight Sephiroth, but he did so admirably. And more than Sephiroth. He fought against the Weapons, vast beasts created by the Planet, and against Scarlet, a rather nasty woman who was an executive of the corrupt Shinra Corporation. You'll get to meet at least another who fought alongside us. I didn't bring him today, but his name is Cait Sith. He's…do you know what a robot is?"

McGonagall smiled thinly. "Many wizards and witches are ignorant of Muggle terms and what they mean, Miss Gainsborough, but I can assure you, I know what a robot is. It is like a mechanical golem, animated by machinery, am I not correct?"

"Yes. That's not a bad definition," Aerith said. "He's like a toy cat, and he has his own intelligence, though his creator can control him and speak through him."

"That's an interesting coincidence," McGonagall mused. "A 'Cait Sith' is a kind of cat fairy on this world(1). I wonder what it is on your world."

"I think it's the same," Jenova said. "Anyway, Cait Sith is going to be Aerith's familiar here. And before you ask, yes, we tested him in Diagon Alley. He was designed to be shielded from the energy in Mako Reactors, which would have higher background energy than here at Hogwarts."

"And what of you, Miss Calamitas? Or should I say, Jenova? Oh yes, Albus told me," McGonagall said. "Are you a danger to the students here?"

"No more than any other teacher. After all, you have Professor Snape, a former follower of Voldemort, working here," Jenova said, taking some perverse pleasure in the flinch that McGonagall had when she said Voldemort's name. "Let's just say that we're the same, although I don't believe I will share his bias against anyone who isn't Slytherin. The students are all equally worthless." She chuckled. "Speaking of which, Dumbledore told me that you like to play a prank on students, of sorts. You are, like Sirius Black, an Animagus, aren't you?"

McGonagall nodded. "Indeed. I'm still finding it a bit hard to digest that Sirius is innocent, but that story…I suspected that they may be Animagi, the Marauders, I mean, but never could confirm it. Anyway, I am, indeed, a cat Animagus." To demonstrate, she shrunk to a cat, who had markings on her face resembling the spectacles McGonagall wore.

Aerith nodded, impressed. "We have a friend called Vincent. He's not exactly an Animagus, but thanks to experiments performed on him, he can transform into a number of beasts. And Jenova and those with her cells can transform."

Jenova nodded, before changing her skin blue and her hair silver. Her eyes became green, with slit pupils. "This is the standard colouration for my…human form." Armoured plates suddenly formed around her, and her arms became bladed appendages, her head becoming a smooth, featureless helmet. Bruise-coloured wings of flesh protruded from her back. " _And this is my main battleform_ ," Jenova said, her voice warped and distorted. " _Not something you want to see, for it means someone is going to die if I use this form in earnest._ " The armoured plates around her head retracted, and her arms changed from blades to merely armoured. The wings became raven-like, black-feathered and glossy. "This is my ultimate battleform. Let's just say that if I ever fought Voldemort, it'd be like this."

"I think, Jenova, that you should stick to merely transforming your hair and skin colour," McGonagall said archly. "I presume that's what you want to do in my class."

"Of course. I'll just say that I'm a…what did Sirius call it? A Metamorphagus. My point is, while you're a cat, I want to be feeling blue. Call it a double prank."

McGonagall considered it, before nodding, the faintest ghost of an impish smile twitching at her features. "Why not? But remember, Jenova, I expect professionalism. Transfiguration is a dangerous art, the students need to learn that."

"Oh, I think I can do that very well. I can show them what happened to a certain Professor Hojo(2). I wasn't there when he first transformed, but Harry's memories and what I absorbed from Hojo himself…" Jenova chuckled evilly.

Aerith looked at McGonagall pleadingly, images of Hojo's first, nightmarish transformation filling her head. "Please don't take her up on that offer. Shock tactics are all very well, but that would give them nightmares."

"Frankly, Miss Gainsborough, Transfigurations gone wrong will give them even worse ones. I will vet it, don't worry about that."

* * *

Later that night, Harry found it hard to get to sleep. He was filled with excitement and worry at the same time. Then again, it had to be better than his fight against Shinra and Sephiroth. It was a magical school. Hopefully, the worst he'd have to deal with were some bullies and a few magical accidents. After his adventures some months ago, it'd make a nice change.

He had finally hit upon a name for his owl. It took a while, but he found the name Hedwig in _The History of Magic_ , and the owl seemed to like it. He would have to find some way to thank Hagrid for going to all that trouble. He wondered when the gigantic man's birthday was.

He also wondered what House he would get Sorted into. Sirius was supportive, saying that he didn't care which House. Harry had to confess to being wary of Slytherin. Not that he thought little of cunning and ambition: his ambitions were nothing to sneeze at, for he intended to surpass the myth that had grown up around him. He wanted to become the Boy Who Strived, instead of the Boy Who Lived. But with Slytherin a bastion of the blood-purists, and the former House of Voldemort, he dismissed the thought. He'd probably be seen as going dark if he was Sorted there, anyway, and Sirius had stated that you did, if you were a difficult case, have a choice of where to be Sorted. Sirius did: it was how he got into Gryffindor.

Of course, he wasn't sure which of the other three Houses he would go into. He had proven his bravery time and again during the battle against Shinra and Sephiroth, so Gryffindor was a distinct possibility. But he was also loyal to his friends and adopted family, and determined to work hard, which were Hufflepuff qualities. And he did have some desire to learn new things, so Ravenclaw was a possibility, albeit a distant one.

Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. Sirius hadn't actually told him how they were Sorted, only that their qualities would be judged by an impartial judge. Fred Weasley hinted that they'd have to undergo a painful trial, including wrestling a troll. Harry reckoned he was joking, though Ron needed some assurance, despite knowing his older brothers' propensity for pranks.

He studied the Potions text once more. He had tried his best to learn what he could for Professor Snape. He hoped that he could, if not impress the man, then at least convince him that he was neither his father's son nor his mother's, but his own person, a boy who wanted to learn.

That's what he wanted to be. Not the Boy Who Lived, but the Boy Who Strived.

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, Episode 1 is finally over. It took longer to write this than it did to write most of** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **. I had other things on my mind. Sorry. Other fanfics (like** ** _Hooked on a Feeling, You've Got to Hide Your Love Away_** **, and** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **), my non-fanfic writing, playing various games on Steam (the Steam Summer Sale was a major hiccup for my writing)…you get the drill. As you might have noticed, this episode is a quieter one, more about the preparations for Hogwarts and the characters, albeit with Luna's revelation, Lucrezia, and the horcruxes put in. Things will heat up later, once the Sorting and the first classes are over and done with.**

 **Oh, and McGonagall, Aerith, and Jenova finally meet.**

 **1\. This is indeed the case. McGonagall would know, as a cait sith is from Scottish mythology, and she is Scottish. Maybe she was inspired to adopt a cat form by the cait sith.**

 **2\. Namely, his Heretic (or Helletic) Hojo form. Jenova wasn't there when Hojo was in his Heretic form, but she has his memories, and access to Harry's, so she can shape part of herself into a simulacrum of Heretic Hojo.**

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **McGonagall's Theme** **:** ** _Freya's Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**


	7. Chapter 6: On the Hogwarts Express

**EPISODE 2:**

 **ARRIVAL AT HOGWARTS**

 _Doctrina est ingenii naturale quoddam pabulum (Learning is a kind of natural food for the mind)._

 _-Cicero_

 **CHAPTER 6:**

 **ON THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

The trip to King's Cross Station was eventful, though it could've been more so: Arthur Weasley had a Ford Anglia he had been tinkering with, using custom enchantments that were of dubious legality, like expanding the interior. Apparently it could turn invisible and even fly, but they weren't using those today, obviously. Or the car at all. In fact, they used the Floo to get to the Leaky Cauldron, and took a bus. Arthur Weasley had to go to work, and Molly couldn't drive.

They took a normal bus because Arthur and Molly had a desire to have their children know how to get around in the Muggle world. Then, they entered the secret entrance of Platform 9 ¾, a realm Harry recognised from the memory-scape Jenova had conjured for him from one of his earliest memories, apparently of his father taking him there when he was an infant.

Unlike the eerie, empty mindscape, this one was filled with a crush of children and their parents or guardians rushing around, trying to get the children on board on time. It was a wonderful chaotic scene filled with life and joy.

Harry, Aerith, Ron and Jenova, along with the twins and Percy, said their goodbyes to Molly and Ginny, who had accompanied them. Harry had grown to like Ginny, at least once her misconceptions about who he was and what he had done had gone away. True, she was still a little in awe of him, especially for fighting Sephiroth, but he pointed out that it hadn't been a glamorous adventure, but a fight to the death that he (and the others) had barely won.

Aerith, Jenova, Harry and Ron took a carriage to themselves, while Fred and George went to meet with a friend, Lee Jordan, who apparently had a large pet tarantula of some renown, and Percy went to the Prefects' Carriage. As Ron examined his rat, Scabbers, he didn't noticed the look Aerith, Jenova, and Harry shared. They suspected for some time that Scabbers was none other than Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form, but hadn't told Ron for a number of reasons. The first was that, if he started acting strange towards Pettigrew, Pettigrew may notice. The second was that they weren't completely sure. The evidence was circumstantial. They knew the rat was older than it should have been, and that it was missing a toe. And Jenova smelt not a rat, not a literal one, anyway.

They had discussed the matter with Dumbledore discreetly, and it was decided that he, McGonagall, and Snape would covertly test Scabbers to see whether he was an Animagus. And, more specifically, whether he was Pettigrew. They kept specific information from Sirius, though they let him know they might know where Pettigrew was. Sirius agreed to let them deal with it: time spent out of Azkaban and in civilisation meant that he could understand where they were coming from. Pettigrew needed to be presented to the DMLE as a _fait accompli_. Do that, and have him interrogated with Veritaserum, and Sirius' name would be, if not completely cleared, then mostly so.

Time passed. Harry and Ron got some treats off the sweets trolley, and Harry was amazed at his first Chocolate Frogs and their cards. He also experimented with Bertie Bott's All-Flavour Beans, which even Aerith and Jenova tried. They did mean 'all flavours', after all, which included curry and spinach. Ron claimed that he had had ones that tasted like liver and tripe, and George got one that tasted like bogeys.

Not long after that, a round-faced boy whom they had seen on the platform came in, tears streaking his face. "Sorry," he asked, "but have you seen a toad?"

The quartet in the carriage looked at each other, before shaking their heads. Jenova, however, looked thoughtful. "No, but I may be able to find him. What's your name?"

"Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Well, Neville, my name is Jen Calamitas. This young woman is Aerith Gainsborough, and we will be staff at Hogwarts. This is Ron Weasley, and this is Harry Gainsborough, though he was born Harry Potter. Please don't stare," she admonished, seeing him begin to stare.

"I'm sorry," Neville whined.

"It's okay, Neville. I just don't like being famous for something my parents probably did," Harry said, standing up and going over to the boy, shaking his hand.

"Now, to your toad. I think I can help you," Jenova said. "I've been meaning to try this for a while. What's your toad's name?"

"Trevor," the boy said tearfully.

"Okay." She took out her wand, waved it, and said, " _Accio_ , Trevor!"

She hadn't been present when Sirius had tried to use the same spell on Harry, but she had seen it through his eyes, and had asked Sirius to teach her and Harry. She had picked up the spell quicker than Harry, though he did know it.

Within a few seconds, and with a startled croak, the toad smacked into Neville, and flopped to the ground, stunned, but otherwise unharmed. Neville picked him up, in time for a girl with bushy hair, prominent front teeth, and a bossy demeanour to come in. "Oh, you found him Neville!"

"It was Professor Calamitas, Hermione," Neville explained.

"Oh?" The girl turned to Jenova, who still had her wand out. "You did magic?"

"Yes. A Summoning Spell, to be precise. You are?"

"Hermione Granger. And who are you?"

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Hermione," Aerith said, handling the introductions this time. "I am Aerith Gainsborough, and this is Jen Calamitas. We will be new staff members for Hogwarts. This is Ron Weasley, and this is my adopted brother, Harry Gainsborough, though you may know him as Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Hermione asked. Her reaction wasn't one of a fangirl, though it was enthusiastic nonetheless. "I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in…"

"…A dozen books that don't know what they're talking about," Jenova interjected smoothly. "It was probably his parents who did something to protect him that night, Miss Granger."

Hermione, her speech interrupted, seemed nonplussed. Eventually, she said, "Well, I guess so. But nobody in my family is magical at all, so it was such a surprise to get the letter. I want to know everything I can about the magical world, which was why I read all those books."

"An admirable thing," Jenova said. "But here's something I will teach you gratis, Hermione: there are many wizards and witches who put a premium on purity of blood. Nobody in this carriage subscribes to that excremental idiocy, but there will be those who look down on you because you're Muggleborn. So be careful who you say you're a Muggleborn to. You may turn out to be a better student than Purebloods, but they won't give a damn. I look forward to teaching you, though."

"Oh yes, you said you were on the staff," Hermione said, clearly filing away Jenova's information for later. "What subject will you be teaching?"

"I will be teaching assistant for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, while Aerith here will be an assistant healer in the hospital wing. We are both very capable witches, though. You are looking forward to the Sorting?"

"Oh, yes. Ravenclaw doesn't sound too bad, but Gryffindor, well, it's where Dumbledore once was."

Harry shrugged. "Well, yeah, but if you really like learning, Ravenclaw may be the best place to be. I don't know which House I'll be in, but I'll be happy with where I am Sorted."

Hermione looked at them, before nodding. "I'd better go. You two had better change into your school robes," she said to Harry and Ron. "I expect we'll be there soon."

After she and Neville left, Ron muttered, "Hope we're not in the same House as her."

"It'll be fine," Aerith said. "She's a bit bossy and headstrong, but she means well. She helped Neville find the toad, after all."

"And she has a desire for learning," Jenova said. "As long as she accepts that not everything in a book is gospel, well…"

It was not long afterwards that they got yet another intrusion, a rather pale, pointed-faced boy with blonde hair and a rather overbearing demeanour. He was flanked by a pair of burly boys who looked like their sole purpose in life was to be minions. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is that you?"

"Harry Potter is what my name was," Harry said, a little put off by the boy's demeanour. He acted like Rufus Shinra used to. Nonetheless, he stood and walked over to the boy. He had a feeling he was someone Sirius had talked to him about. "I'm Harry Gainsborough. And you are?" He held out a hand, out of courtesy and politeness than any real desire to befriend the boy.

"My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," Draco said as he shook Harry's hand briefly. He indicated his pet bodyguards. "And this is Crabbe and this is Goyle."

Ah yes, the boy was a Malfoy. Sirius had warned him about them, an old and rich Pureblood family. Lucius Malfoy was one of Voldemort's top lieutenants, though Dumbledore explained that Lucius managed to escape punishment by claiming to be under the Imperius curse. Which they knew was BS, but the government was credulous enough to let him go. Some bribes helped.

Harry nodded. He indicated the others in the compartment. "This is my friend," he said, pointedly emphasising the word _friend_ , "Ron Weasley, my adoptive sister Aerith Gainsborough, and a family friend, Jen Calamitas."

He saw how Draco's eyes roved those in the compartment. A faint sneer touched his lips when he saw Ron, but his looks were more calculating when it came to Aerith and Jenova, especially the latter. Eventually, he said, "You'll learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter."

"Gainsborough, please," Harry said.

"Gainsborough. I've never heard of that name being a wizarding one," he said, frowning.

"Like Harry, I'm a Halfblood, and I was adopted by a Muggle," Aerith said. She could tell this little POS was a blood purist, and wanted to see his reaction.

Draco frowned, before returning to Harry. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." This time, he offered his hand.

Harry took it, but said, quietly, "Draco…I believe I can choose who to be friends with myself. But thank you for your offer. I hope you do well."

Draco blinked. While it was a rather forceful rejection, Harry had followed it up with a thank you. Probably not sincere, but even at his young age, Draco could see that the forms had been followed, so to speak. Eventually, he said, "A word of warning, then, Potter. Be careful of who you hang out with. With riff-raff like Weasley or Muggles…"

"Oh, and what am I?" Jenova said, standing, and walking over to the boys. Harry moved out of the way. "I myself am a Pureblood."

"I've never heard of a Calamitas family," Draco said.

"We don't like to advertise ourselves. Now, I do know your type, Mr Malfoy. I've met others like you, so I will be blunt. If you want to be friends with Harry, you cannot force your friendship on him. However, we are more than willing to have an ally in you…as long as you don't do anything that is unbecoming of your family, or your House, whatever that may be. Am I understood?"

"You can't threaten me!" Draco said. "I'll tell my father about this!"

"I didn't threaten you. But if you think I am, then let me do so. Harry can make friends and allies with whomever he wants or chooses. He has faced deadlier things than Voldemort…" She noted with sadistic glee that he flinched at the name. "…so he won't be intimidated by you. Do anything to harm him and his friends, and I will ensure that you regret it. And your father does not scare me. I have forgotten more in my life than he has ever learned. But that is not the point. Like I said, we are willing to be allies. It is better that, than to be enemies. Don't you agree?"

Draco considered this, before reluctantly nodding.

"Good. We'll talk later. Now, if you don't mind, we'd like some privacy. We're soon to arrive at Hogwarts, and I'm sure you need to change into your school robes, hmm?" Jenova asked.

Draco nodded, before leaving, his goons in tow. "That was very restrained of you," Aerith observed.

"Snooty little brat," Jenova sneered. "He's worse than Rufus. At least Rufus can back up his attitude with more than hired goons. He can fight if necessary. Whereas that brat… Still, at least we've impressed on him that we could be open to an alliance. Better that than have him as an enemy all year."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to be friends with him."

"I don't expect you to be," Jenova said. "There's a difference between being friends, and just showing politeness and courtesy. Hopefully, he'll do that. Definitely a Slytherin, though. I don't know about cunning, but he's certainly ambitious. And you saw the way he reacted regarding blood purity. But if he is a Malfoy, it means he may be influential enough in Slytherin. Better to not have him turn an entire House against us." Looking at them, she said, "We'd better get ready. We'll be there soon…"

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, the journey on the Hogwarts Express goes a bit like it was in canon, but also different. I decided to have Draco dealt with in a different manner to the novel, so that, while he might not ever become a friend of Harry's, the outright antagonism may not start so swiftly. Or not: Draco's a prick, after all. And he will still see what happened as a snub.**

 **I've decided to write the next chapter from another POV. Most fanfics write the Sorting scene from Harry's POV, but here, I will write it from others'. Probably Aerith.**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**

 **CHAPTER 6 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Quiet Boy (Neville's theme):** ** _The Force Theme_** **, from** ** _Star Wars: A New Hope_** **, composed by John Williams. I like the melancholy part of this theme. Plus, it ties into the possibility that Neville could have been the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One.**

 **Hermione, the Bookworm** **:** ** _Daguerro_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. I mean, what else could it be but the theme of a library?**

 **Bad Faith (Draco's theme)** **:** ** _Ada's Theme_** **, from** ** _Resident Evil 2_** **, composed by Masami Ueda. I thought that having a theme that was both dark but not without light would work. Ada's theme from the second game worked.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Feast

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **THE FEAST**

After disembarking from the train, Aerith and Jenova reluctantly left Harry and Ron in the hands of Hagrid. Both women were startled to see what was pulling the carriages they (and the older students) were taking to Hogwarts: bizarre, skeletal horses with bat-like wings. When they mentioned this face to some of the students they were travelling with, they were then told, by most, that there was nothing pulling the carriages. A few did admit they could see something pulling the carriages, provoking an argument that Aerith and Jenova stayed out of.

They had a carriage to themselves, and Aerith remarked to Jenova, "Why are these creatures invisible to most of these students and not others?"

"I don't know. Perhaps one of the staff might know. Hagrid loves weird creatures, this seems right up his alley," Jenova mused. "I presume that they're harmless, relatively speaking. Otherwise, they wouldn't have them near the students."

They soon reached the castle, and were escorted to the Great Hall, a magnificent vast room with four gigantic tables corresponding to the four Houses, with a fifth table for the staff. The ceiling had an enchantment to look like the sky outside, and candles floated in the air. It was certainly impressive. They recognised the Weasleys already seated at the Gryffindor table, _sans_ Ron of course. Aerith and Jenova sat with Sprout and Flitwick flanking them. Aerith noted that already many students were looking curiously at them.

Aerith was closest to Flitwick, and leaned over to him, and asked, "Those horse-things pulling the carriages…what were they?"

"Oh, you could see them?" Flitwick asked. "Those are Thestrals. They are creatures who can only be seen by those who have witnessed death, and understood what it meant."

"So Harry won't have a problem seeing them," Jenova remarked, having heard Flitwick's response.

Sprout looked at Aerith and Jenova in horror. "What has he gone through?"

"A lot," Jenova said laconically. "Aerith, what would have been the first death he saw?"

Aerith pondered the question. He did watch Scarlet dying at Barrett's hands (or rather, his gun-arm), but there were earlier ones than that. The Snow-Woman was one possibility, especially as he had killed her himself to save Aerith and Elena. Then again, Aerith couldn't dismiss the video of her father, Gast Faremis, dying. True, the video didn't show him actually dying, but it was a possibility.

"Probably the Snow-Woman," Aerith finally said. "Or perhaps the video my father left me. He didn't actually die on-screen, but…"

"That may have been enough," Flitwick said solemnly. "To witness death at such a young age…"

"He's been through a lot," Jenova reiterated. Dumbledore had told them that Sprout and Flitwick knew a little of what had happened, but they only knew that Harry had gone to another world. They didn't know about Sephiroth, or Shinra, or that Jenova was the legendary Calamity from the Skies from the myths of the Cetra Exodus.

The two watched as ghosts filtered in through a set of doors, albeit without opening them. Aerith and Jenova had encountered ghosts back home: indeed, Aerith remembered fighting through the Caves of the Gi with Cloud, Nanaki, and Bugenhagen. But these spirits were benign, though they were told that there was a troublesome poltergeist by the name of Peeves they had to look out for.

Aerith resolved to meet some of them when she could. She had been briefed on a few of them, namely the House ghosts. There was the convivial Sir Nicholas, known as Nearly Headless Nick (due to the rather nasty way he was killed in a botched beheading) of Gryffindor. There was the jolly Fat Friar of Hufflepuff. There was the rather solemn and lugubrious Grey Lady of Ravenclaw. And there was the bloodied and forbidding figure of the Bloody Baron.

"How many ghosts are there in this castle?" Aerith asked.

"Nobody knows exactly," Flitwick said. "And the number does change. But aside from the four House ghosts and Peeves, there's Professor Binns, whom you've met, and…oh, there's Myrtle. She's infamous for haunting a girl's bathroom in the school. Poor thing, rather overwrought and filled with self-pity. And then there's…"

Dumbledore chose that moment to call for silence. Not long afterwards, a different door to the ones that they had entered in opened, and McGonagall strode in, the first years in her wake. Aerith spotted Harry in their midst, along with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Draco.

McGonagall then left the students waiting, before going to where a stool was standing, and bringing it forward. Perched on top was a rather battered hat. Ah, yes. Dumbledore had told them about the Sorting Hat, though he had asked them not to tell Harry, if only to not spoil the surprise. It was an initiation ceremony of sorts.

Then, the Sorting Hat began to speak, a rip near its brim moving like a mouth. No, not speak. Sing.

Aerith and Jenova shared a look as they listened to the song. It wasn't too bad, considering, but the Hat sang in a rather scratchy voice. However, once it had finished, they applauded with the others, if only for politeness' sake.

McGonagall came forward with a roll of names, and told them to sit on the stool and put on the hat when their name was called. One Hannah Abbot was the first to be Sorted, and she went into Hufflepuff, the Hat bellowing the House for all to hear.

As the Sorting went on, they noticed that some people took some time to be Sorted, and others were Sorted instantly. Cheers went up from each table during each Sorting. The first child to be Sorted that Aerith and Jenova recognised was Crabbe, who turned out to have the first name of Vincent. He got Sorted into Slytherin.

Harry's name was called. There were whispers when he answered to the last name of 'Gainsborough', and not 'Potter'. He looked understandably nervous, and his eyes flickered towards Aerith and Jenova. Aerith gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Then, he sat on the stool, while McGonagall placed the Hat on his head…

* * *

 _Hmm…interesting…very interesting…_ murmured a soft voice into Harry's mind. _And difficult, too. You have all the qualities of the Houses, you know. Bravery, loyalty, a keen mind, and a thirst to strive. Talent, and you have already proven yourself in battle too many times for one so young. Even with the taint of the Calamity's cells within you, and the dark experiences that you have faced, you are still pure of heart in many ways, Harry Gainsborough. So, where shall I put you?_

Harry sent back, in his head, _I know ambition and cunning aren't bad. But Voldemort tainted Slytherin forever. I don't want to be seen as the next Voldemort, so not Slytherin, please. I want to be seen not as the Boy Who Lived, but as the Boy Who Strived. And I want to be with friends_.

 _And you've already made some. You'd do well in any House, even Slytherin. But you've proved your valour most of all, against this Sephiroth. I see it all, the pain you have fought through. Any House would be good for you, but it had better be…_

* * *

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took the Hat off, got off the stool, and walked over to the table, getting the loudest cheer yet, Aerith and Jenova noticing that it was the twins who led it more than any other. Obviously, his new name was somehow known in the Wizarding World. She'd have to ask Dumbledore about that.

Not long afterwards, one Gregory Goyle, the other of Draco's minions, got sorted into Slytherin.

Hermione took only a brief time to be Sorted, and Jenova and Aerith were both surprised when the Hat Sorted her into Gryffindor. Hermione seemed rather bemused, but joined the Gryffindor table.

Neville Longbottom was the next one they recognised being Sorted. The poor boy was seated there for a long time, before the Hat yelled out "GRYFFINDOR!" With what looked like a relieved look on his face, Neville scurried off, only to be called back. He was still wearing the Sorting Hat, after all.

The Hat barely touched Draco Malfoy's head when it shouted "SLYTHERIN!" Not much of a surprise there, though both Aerith and Jenova noted that, while many of those at the table looked sinister, others just looked calculating or impassive. Aerith for one was amazed that many people would want to be Sorted into that House, after what Voldemort did with it.

The Sorting went on for a little while longer, though the only name that Aerith and Jenova really paid attention to was Ron. He went to Gryffindor, much to his relief. They did note that the last one to be Sorted, a dark-skinned boy by the name of Blaise Zabini, went into Slytherin.

Dumbledore got to his feet, beaming with benevolent charm and pleasantness. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

There was some cheering and clapping, and more than a little laughter. Aerith knew, however, that while Dumbledore was eccentric and jovial, she also knew of the darker side to the man. He liked cultivating an air of eccentricity and near-madness. Perhaps it distracted him from his pain as much as it distracted his enemies from his true ability.

The food appeared before them on their plates, and Aerith began to eat. She watched Harry, even as she occasionally spoke with Flitwick on various subjects. He proved to be surprisingly knowledgeable about technology, in general terms at least, and hoped to look at Cait Sith, who was currently in the luggage (and probably not happy about it).

Soon, the feast was over, and Dumbledore stood once more. "Now that we are all fed and watered, a few start-of-term notices need to be given out. First years should note that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds. And a few of our older students would do well to remember this." Aerith noted that his twinkling eyes were looking at the twins when he did so.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors between classes." Dumbledore then gestured to the other side of the table. "Professor Quirrell will be this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. However, he is far from the only new staff member." He then gestured to Aerith and Jenova. "Madam Aerith Gainsborough will be assistant healer in the hospital wing. Professor Jen Calamitas will be assistant teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration."

There was some polite applause, and more appraising looks. Dumbledore continued, discussing Quidditch tryouts. Finally, he said, "This year, I must tell you that the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to suffer a most painful death. I must emphasise that the danger is real, and deadly.(1)"

Jenova and Aerith shared another look. That must be where they were hiding the Philosopher's Stone. They were meeting Dumbledore later to deal with enhancing the defences for it.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore said. Jenova and Aerith noticed that Flitwick and Sprout had rather fixed smiles now.

Jenova, thinking quickly, used one of the spells that she had seen amongst her studies of the textbooks. Flitwick, Sprout, and Aerith found their hearing dimmed somewhat, and didn't have to endure the full volume of the school song, with the lyrics sung to whatever tune that the students wanted. She noted, with some perverse amusement, that Harry had his hands clapped over his ears.

The song finished, though the two Weasley twins were straggling along, apparently singing the song to the tune of some slow funeral dirge. Once they had finished, Dumbledore said, "Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"

"That was not music," Jenova hissed. "Even heavy metal is music by comparison."

"Heavy metal?" Sprout asked.

"Muggle music," Aerith explained. "A friend of ours told me it's the same here as well as where we live." Sirius' innocence was not well known amongst the staff, with only McGonagall, Snape, and Hagrid knowing. "Very loud and powerful, sometimes cacophonic. There's a remix of the battle music from _Loveless_ that's a good example.(2)"

Jenova grinned her shark-like grin. As much as she played the part of an elegant, aristocratic woman, she shared with Sirius Black, as well as the Weasley twins, a desire to prank woman. She would love to see what the reaction would be if the school was woken up by the metal version of _Those Who Fight_. Perhaps Peeves might be amenable to helping out?

Aerith noticed the grin on Jenova's face, and shuddered. What was she up to?

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Of course, a lot was transcribed, or paraphrased, from** ** _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_** **. I deliberately left out the two songs, with the Sorting Hat song being used a ridiculous amount of times in fanfic.**

 **Now, I decided to leave the Sortings as they are in canon. But I decided to have a different conversation between Harry and the Hat this time around. And in case you're wondering how the Hat can see into Harry's mind when the Legilimency used earlier didn't work, well, it's because the Hat works in a different way to Legilimency, I reckon.**

 **And Jenova is beginning to show a pranking side to her. Oh** ** _shit_** **. Hogwarts isn't going to know what hit it.**

 **1\. One complaint that I see is that Dumbledore's warning is more of an enticement to the curious. I decided to add this further bit of dialogue to show that Dumbledore means well enough. It won't stop the curious, though.**

 **2\. You may have guessed from the subsequent bits, but they are referring to the** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **battle theme, which exists in-universe (as does the victory fanfare) as the music to** ** _Loveless_** **. Specifically, Aerith is talking about the** ** _Advent Children_** **remix of the battle theme, which, incidentally, is bloody awesome.**

 **CHAPTER 7 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! (Dumbledore being frivolous)** **:** ** _Misato_** **, from** ** _Neon Genesis Evangelion_** **, composed by Shiro Sagisu. It took me a while to come up with a theme for Dumbledore when he's being happy, or at least acting it. Then, inspiration hit me. Like Misato, Dumbledore is a leader with many failures behind him, and puts on many masks for his work. Oh, and he is pretty unhappy in love.**


	9. Chapter 8: The Diadem, The Ring, The

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **THE DIADEM, THE RING, THE HALLOWS AND THE GHOST**

The next day, Jenova, Aerith, Dumbledore and Snape went to the Room of Requirement as early as possible. Aerith wore a cape that functioned as robes over her standard outfit. Jenova, rarely one to be conventional, wore a large coat in a similar fashion(1). Dumbledore paced back and forth in front of the area (near a tapestry depicting some wizard trying to teach trolls how to ballet dance), and then, a door appeared. Proof, Dumbledore said quietly, if any be needed, that a horcrux was present, for he had been thinking that he needed to find the horcrux.

Jenova and Aerith looked around in wonder at the room that was revealed. A vast chamber, filled with all sorts of objects. But prominent amongst them was a bust of an old warlock with a wig, and a discoloured diadem1.

"There's the little bastard," Jenova said, striding forward, only for Dumbledore to halt her. Dumbledore and Snape then cast a few spells on the Diadem, before the former then gestured her forward. Jenova nodded, then gripped the object. Once more, her jaw distended grotesquely, and a black, smoke-like substance was drawn into her mouth with a howl. The Diadem, while still a little tarnished, seemed to become brighter.

"The little shit is still using Occlumency," Jenova snarled. "I can't get any more memories about the book."

"Maybe this will help," Dumbledore said, plucking from his robes a box. Jenova took it gingerly, and opened it to find a ring with a large stone embedded in it. The stone had a distinctive symbol carved on it: a bisected circle contained within a triangle, looking eerily like a cat's eye.

Jenova wrinkled her nose. "It stinks of more than a horcrux," she remarked. "Even without Voldemort's memories, I can tell this bloody thing is cursed."

"We tried removing the curses on the ring," Dumbledore said. "It was something of a trial to get it."

Snape snorted. "An understatement if I ever heard one."

"That symbol," Aerith said with a frown. "I've seen it somewhere before. It was in one of the illustrations of that book you gave Harry for his birthday."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Once we have dealt with the horcrux, I will tell you."

"Well," Jenova said, peering at the ring, "what remaining curse is there on it?"

"A dark curse, presumably of the Dark Lord's own design," Snape said. "Virtually impossible to remove, save by it being expended. Anyone foolish enough to put on the ring will find themselves dying in a most horrible manner. Their entire body rots."

"Hmm. I wonder." Jenova suddenly seemed to split into two. "Well, this is going to suck," they said in chorus.

"Jenova?" Aerith asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm performing an experiment. I think Hojo rubbed off on me more than I thought," the two Jenovas chorused. Then, one of them took the ring, and placed it on her finger.

She screamed in pain, her skin colour and hair changing back to what was normal for her. She clutched at the ring on her finger, snarling in anger. "Oh no you don't!" she snarled, before turning to her clone. "Do it!"

The original Jenova nodded, her jaw distending grotesquely again. Black smoke was drawn from the ring, while the Jenova wearing it gripped it with a manic grimace on her face. Aerith watched, with horror, as the flesh around the ring turned purple, and then black, beginning to rot. Even as her hand fell apart, Jenova grasped the ring in another hand. "Sore loser, aren't you?!" she screamed at the ring, even though it no longer possessed a horcrux. "You're like my son, you know that?!"

"Jenova," Aerith said, stepping forward to help, but the stricken clone waved her away.

"I'm absorbing the curse into this body!" the dying Jenova snarled. "Don't worry, I'm just losing these cells. My consciousness will return to the main source! Of course, it's more than a little painful." She began laughing, maniacally, even as the rot seemed to accelerate, and chunks of flesh began to fall from her body, melting into purulent goo. Then, she seemed to collapse into a steaming puddle of gunk, which itself evaporated into nothing.

All that was left was the ring.

Jenova grimaced. "Well, that was unpleasant to experience," she remarked too-casually, as if discussing a splinter being removed from her finger rather than the dissolution of one of her bodies. She walked over, and picked up the ring. "The curse is gone, though, along with the horcrux." Casually, she threw it over to Dumbledore, who caught it by instinct. "Now, you were saying? That symbol…Aerith's right. I saw it when I had a look through that book myself. There was an illustration at the end of _The Three Brothers_ in that _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ book. It was on a gravestone."

Dumbledore nodded. "The sign of the Deathly Hallows," he admitted.

"Wait, what?" Aerith asked.

"The Deathly Hallows is the name given to the three artifacts from the story of the Three Brothers," Dumbledore said. "The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility." He then looked to the ceiling. "Blackboard, please?"

A blackboard and chalk appeared, and Dumbledore drew the same symbol, and then separated it into three parts: a triangle, a circle, and a line. "The Cloak," he said, pointing to the triangle. "The Stone," he said, pointing to the circle.

"And the Wand is the line," Aerith said. "I remember that story. One of the more intriguing ones. But you're saying that you think that they are real?"

"I know that they are real," Dumbledore said quietly.

Jenova frowned, before she said, "Your wand. May I?"

Dumbledore looked at Jenova, before reluctantly handing over his wand. Jenova scrutinised it, before her eyes widened. "Definitely elder wood…and there's a lot of power in this. So this is one of these Deathly Hallows?"

"I believe so. I obtained that wand after defeating Grindlewald during what the Muggles would know as the Second World War," Dumbledore said quietly. After some consideration, he admitted, "We were once close friends. We had wanted to quest for the Hallows, once."

"Must've been one hell of a falling-out," Jenova said, handing the wand back to its owner.

"It was," Dumbledore admitted, though he refused to be drawn further on the matter. "I'm surprised you didn't want to keep it yourself."

"Oh, I admit it's tempting. But it's better to develop your own power. Besides, if you can defeat someone who possesses the most powerful wand in the world, well, what's to stop someone else from beating you?"

"A wise answer."

"Well, an intelligent and pragmatic one," Jenova said. "I can see why you keep the existence of it secret. Every nutter who wants ultimate power would be after you."

"As fascinating as this is," Snape said, "we have breakfast to attend." He picked up the Diadem and toyed with it pensively. "I'll give this to Filius as soon as I can. A shame we cannot display the Locket in the same manner," he added pointedly.

"By the way," Aerith asked as they walked out of the Room of Requirement, "what do you think of the medicines I gave you?"

Snape looked at Aerith, before nodding. "Some are not dissimilar to potions I know. That Antidote, for example, seemed to be similar to a tincture of a bezoar. And the healing Potions seem to be an amalgamation of multiple healing potions I have worked with, although few have successfully combined them. But they are…interesting." Which coming from Snape probably meant 'absolutely fascinating'. "And the Muggles on your world are able to create these."

"Yes." Before she could say anything further, the distinctive form of Cait Sith was jogging up to them, a look of terror on his usually smiling face. He hadn't been happy when he was released from the luggage, so he went off to do some exploring of Hogwarts. "Hey, Cait Sith, what's wrong?"

"THERE'S A BLOODY HUGE THREE-HEADED DOG BEHIND ONE O' THE DOORS HERE!" Cait Sith screamed, leaping onto her shoulders.

Snape smirked, and Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Miss Gainsborough," Dumbledore said, "did you warn him about the third-floor corridor?"

"Damn," Aerith murmured quietly, knowing that she forgot, before she looked at Dumbledore. "A huge three-headed dog? Like a Cerberus?"

"The mythology of your world and ours must overlap somewhat," Dumbledore said. "But yes, it is called a Cerberus. Hagrid calls him Fluffy, I believe."

Aerith and Jenova stared at each other. " _FLUFFY?!_ " Aerith and Cait Sith yelled at the same time.

Jenova, instead, just shook her head. Hagrid called a ravenous three-headed dog Fluffy? Still, a vicious monster dog would be an effective guard against anyone who wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Just as long as it didn't have any weaknesses.

* * *

On the way down to breakfast, they encountered one of the ghosts. The Grey Lady, the House Ghost of Ravenclaw. She saw the Diadem in Snape's hand, and her eyes widened comically. "Where did you find that?!" she yelped in surprise.

"It's a long story," Snape drawled. "We've just freed it from a rather nasty curse, and we were about to hand it to Professor Flitwick. Why?"

The ghost looked uncomfortable, before she finally said, quietly, "It was my mother's."

All five present gave each other looks, and it was Dumbledore who spoke next. "Then you are Helena Ravenclaw?"

"I am," the ghost said quietly.

"Ah. I know only a little of your story, and I don't think any of these others know. And to think, you were the Grey Lady all this time. But we have just found that this Diadem had one of the most vile magics inflicted on it."

"By Tom Riddle," the ghost said quietly. Noticing their surprise, she elaborated, telling them her story in brief, about how she had stolen the Diadem, and how she was murdered by the Bloody Baron. She had divulged the location of the Diadem, hidden deep in Albania, to a young Tom Riddle, who had buttered her up.

After the ghost had finished, it was Aerith who broke the silence. "We were going to give the Diadem to Professor Flitwick. You…don't have any objection to that, do you?"

"It will be painful to see it again…but no. I do not have any objection. Better to have it here and purged of vile magic than lost or cursed." Her eyes flickered over to Jenova. "Ironic that the Calamity is the one to help us."

Jenova only wondered briefly how the ghost knew she was the Calamity from the Skies. Being of the generation just after the Founders, it might be that they remembered Jenova in some way. Or perhaps being a ghost helped her sense the Jenova cells within Jenova's body. "Let's just say that I have made it my personal mission to make sure Voldemort, the one you knew once as Tom Riddle, dies. Besides, I've mellowed. I am only a Calamity to my enemies, and they are considerably fewer in number this time."

Aerith, who had been considering the ghosts since last night, asked, "Is there any way I can meet more of the ghosts, Miss Ravenclaw?"

The Grey Lady looked rather startled at being addressed by her name for the first time in some time, before she smiled sadly, and said, "Helena, please. And Sir Nicholas is holding a Deathday party on All-Hallow's Eve. He holds one every year, though next year will probably be his grandest. Next year, it is five centuries since his death. I would suggest talking to him. But remind him to cater for the living if you do go: ghosts tend to let food rot, because they can only taste it when it smells strongly."

"All-Hallow's Eve?" Aerith asked.

"Halloween," Dumbledore said. "Do you have that back home?"

"Yes(2)." Aerith smiled at Helena. "Thank you very much, Helena. I will go and speak to Sir Nicholas as soon as I can. And I would love to talk to you again soon."

The ghost of Helena Ravenclaw seemed astonished, but nodded, smiling faintly, before leaving. "Well," Cait Sith remarked, "that was…enlightening. Two ghosts caused by the same events. You sure have a way with words, Aerith."

"She was a person once. In a way, she still is," Aerith said. "And I am interested by these ghosts. They remind me a little of the remnants of the Ancients we met in the Temple. Remember, Cait Sith?"

"Oh, aye. Actually, they looked a wee bit like Dumbledore, only shorter." Cait Sith looked at Dumbledore's robes. "Even got the violet robes down pat."

Dumbledore chortled, while Snape looked merely a little annoyed. However, in relatively good spirits, the quintet made their way down to the Great Hall, and breakfast…

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Two more horcruxes down, Aerith and Jenova learn about the Deathly Hallows, and Aerith makes friends with Helena Ravenclaw. Oh, and Cait Sith has met Fluffy. Heh heh heh…**

 **Now, in case you're wondering why Jenova, or her clone, died, I thought about Jenova actually destroying the curse herself, before deciding that was too easy. I thought it would be better to have the curse (which affects Dumbledore in** ** _The Half-Blood Prince_** **) be a powerful but single-use curse. So I decided Jenova would once more split off a body (using the barest minimum of Jenova cells to do so in order to avoid wastage) and sacrifice it. It's not dissimilar in this manner to Naruto's Shadow Clones/** ** _Kage Bushin no Jutsu_** **: her consciousness reunites once the body dies (it's not quite shared across bodies this time). It's still an unpleasant experience, and it shows just how dark and deranged Jenova is still inside that the clone laughs as she dies (this is partly because she's looking forward to inflicting the same pain on Voldemort, though I was partly inspired by Dark Bakura smiling during his 'death' at the hands of Dark Marik in** ** _Yu-Gi-Oh!_** **, and the death of the first Greed in** ** _Fullmetal Alchemist_** **).**

 **1\. I decided that the Diadem was more readily visible (than it is in** ** _The Deathly Hallows_** **) because the Room of Requirement responded to a specific request: that Dumbledore needed to find the horcrux. So it brought it to full visibility.**

 **2\. I wonder how many actual holidays exist on the Planet. Because the same dates exist, I'm assuming a few of the same holidays exist as well, either as we know them, or in modified form.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions for this chapter. Sorry.**


	10. Chapter 9: Jenova's First Classes

**CHAPTER 9:**

 **JENOVA'S FIRST CLASSES**

"This ought to be fun," Jenova said with a smirk.

McGonagall looked at Jenova disapprovingly. "Transfiguration is a serious matter, Miss Calamitas."

"Only to one who needs to learn how to do it. I have an instinctive control over my cells. And a desire to prank someone. You share it too: why else would you disguise yourself as a cat? Or for that matter, tolerate the Marauders?"

"I only let the Marauders go so far," McGonagall said icily. "At times, I wish I didn't let them get as far as they did."

The two of them were preparing the Transfiguration classroom for the first class of the term, and coincidentally, the first one for Harry. At ten minutes before classes started, McGonagall shifted into becoming a cat, while Jenova smirked, and let her skin revert to its blue colour, her hair to silver, and her eyes becoming slit-pupilled. "I look so much more beautiful like this, don't you think?" she purred to McGonagall, who merely looked askance at the alien entity, but didn't so much as meow.

Jenova pouted, and muttered, "You're no fun."

Hermione was one of the first to arrive, Jenova noted. Eager to learn, no doubt, though a bit too reliant on book learning. Hermione saw Jenova, who gave her a friendly smile.

The various students trickled in, though Jenova noted to some small concern that Harry wasn't present. She connected herself to him, and found that he was, with Ron, running along the corridors of Hogwarts, trying to get to the class. They had gotten lost.

Jenova sighed to herself. The castle was bloody labyrinthine, and changed its architecture on a regular basis. Many parts did remain the same, true, but even so…

Ron and Harry burst through the door. "Professor Calamitas is here," Ron gasped, breathless. "But where is Professor McGonagall?"

Jenova smirked again as McGonagall leapt off the desk, and shifted back into her human form. Ron and Harry's eyes widened. "That was bloody brilliant," Ron breathed.

"Why thank you, Mr Weasley. But perhaps I should transfigure one of you into a pocket watch or a map, so you can get here on time?"

Jenova chuckled. She shifted her appearance back to normal. As Ron and Harry took their seats, Jenova said with surprising gravitas, "As you noticed, Professor McGonagall is an Animagus, while I am a Metamorphagus. These are both feats of Transfiguration of no small skill."

"Indeed, Professor Calamitas," McGonagall said. "But make no mistake: Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you can ever learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. In order to demonstrate why, Professor Calamitas has a personal anecdote, a warning by example."

"Indeed I do," Jenova said. "Not long ago, I had someone who considered themselves a student of my work, a man called Hojo. He used the title of Professor rather loosely, and while an intelligent man, considered himself to be far more a master of Transfiguration than anyone who ever lived. Unfortunately, he made an extremely bad mistake while Transfiguring his own body."

A small puddle of Jenova cells, hidden in a nearby bucket, suddenly grew and sprouted, becoming a vast, misshapen mess, a tower of bruise-coloured flesh. Leaning over to one side on a grotesque paw, another limb growing bone spikes, the mouth opened in a grotesque, elongated silent scream. Indeed, there were more than a few screams from the class.

Harry was one of those who didn't scream, though he didn't like seeing Hojo in his first mutated form again. He remembered the creature pursuing them through the Shinra Headquarters, as well as the sleeker and deadlier creature that Hojo transformed into after this one was destroyed. Unconsciously, he touched the bangle on his right wrist, and the Materia he had there.

"SILENCE!" Jenova shouted. Once she got it, she said, "This creature is what Hojo turned into. This is what may very well happen if you try Transfiguration on yourself. I doubt any of you wish to look like this, do you? His life wasn't very long after he ended up like this. He died mere minutes later." Which was technically the truth. Of course, it was Jenova who killed him, ripping him apart and bathing in his blood, but the students didn't need to know that, obviously. Besides admitting to homicide, it was better to let the kids believe that a bad Transfiguration could prove lethal. Which indeed they did, as Jenova knew from perusing the texts.

"Thank you, Professor Calamitas, but would you kindly remove that hideous thing?" McGonagall asked.

Jenova nodded, and made the simulacrum of Hojo's mutated form melt away. "Remember this, children. Magic does not care about your intelligence, or your skill, or your pride, or your ancestry. It is a force like gravity or magnetism. It can be directed or commanded, but it is impersonal, and if you get things wrong, it won't care about who or what you are. It will mess you up all the same. Now, on a lighter note…Professor McGonagall?"

McGonagall, a little miffed at being upstaged, nonetheless got the attention of the class back by transfiguring her desk into a pig, and then back again. The students were suitably impressed, though they were less so when they were made to take a copious amount of notes for the first hour. And then had to try and transform a matchstick into a needle. Hermione was one of the better students, something that got her glares from the Slytherin contingent, Jenova noticed.

* * *

She wasn't just at Transfiguration, either. She was currently helping Quirrell with his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class, using a copy of her body (if anyone got curious, she would say it was a special illusion spell she had mastered). And he was a bloody idiot, or at least playing the fool, which when teaching children, was dangerous. He stuttered and stammered, reeked of garlic (and was that carrion she could smell as well?), and evaded questions that would have been pertinent to the class. In fact, he demurred to Jenova many a time, which was fine, as she wanted to show off her knowledge. But she could tell that there was an act. Oh, he was a marvellous actor, but she could see the greasepaint and costume, so to speak, the cracks in the performance and the mask.

As it happened, his first class for the year was teaching the fourth year students, namely Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, about the Unforgivables, and when he finally stammered his way to it, he allowed Jenova to take over.

Jenova folded her arms and glared at the fourth year students. "We will discuss the three Unforgivable Curses. While I won't actually be casting them, I am skilled enough with magic to show imitations of the spells and their effects. Keep in mind that you should never think of these curses so lightly, let alone consider casting it. Voldemort and his Death Eaters may have been the most prolific casters of these spells, but they are far from the only ones. So, can anyone here tell me what the three curses are?" She chose a handsome Hufflepuff boy. "And you are?"

"Cedric Diggory, Professor Calamitas. The curses are the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse."

"Indeed. Take ten points to Hufflepuff, Cedric. Of course, many curses and spells can have lethal effects if misused. A simple Cutting Curse can, if it hits a vital artery, can kill within seconds. With enough power, it can sever someone's head from their body. But these curses are exclusively used for malevolent purposes, and using them on another person will mean imprisonment in Azkaban, which I hear is far from a pleasant holiday destination." Nervous titters arose from the class, before Jenova silenced them with a glare. "The curses were legal until 1717. The Imperius Curse effectively brings people under control. It requires a small but significant amount of concentration to continue it. The incantation is _Imperio_. While it is perhaps the least of the Unforgivables, it is nonetheless a violation of someone's free will. Even Confunding someone only has an immediate effect."

Taking out her wand and toying with it, tapping it against her palm, Jenova said, "Then, we have the Cruciatus Curse. It inflicts agony, directly stimulating the nociceptors of the nervous system. Nociceptors, by the way, is the Muggle scientific term for pain receptors. So perhaps we should call the spell a nocigenic spell. It requires hatred in order to work, but it has terrible consequences: due to the sheer amount of pain, some victims who had undergone prolonged exposure have been driven permanently insane."

"Like the Longbottoms," one Ravenclaw girl said.

Jenova nodded. She had been told about the Longbottoms' fate by Sirius. "From what I have read, the permanent effects of prolonged Cruciatus exposure causes what in Muggle terms could be considered dementia. Of course, there are differences. The incantation is _Crucio_. Finally, we come to the Killing Curse. Many a spell can have lethal effects. Only one is exclusively used for such a thing. There are no known countermeasures to the Killing Curse, at least magic-wise. Your best bet is to put something solid between you and the curse. Only one person is known to have survived the Killing Curse: Harry Gainsborough, or Harry Potter as you may know him better as."

She noticed Quirrell scowl very slightly when she said that. Almost unnoticeable, but she saw it. "Of course, it's doubtful that an unknown, innate ability saved him. The credit should probably go to one or both of his parents, who may have found a magical countermeasure. But Harry is, to date, the only survivor of the Killing Curse, and I doubt that he'd survive a second attempt. Your best bet is to get the hell out of the way, or make sure that something solid is between you and the caster. The curse has a distinctive pale green light, and the incantation is _Avada Kedavra_." She tapped her wand against her palm again. "It requires a large amount of magical power to use, of course, and like the Cruciatus spell, it requires a strong desire to see the person dead. Hatred, antipathy, anger…anything that makes you want another person to cease to exist."

She had their attention now, and she looked down at them all. "Remember that knowing how to perform magic to kill someone is the same as giving a Muggle a gun. While a gun may not kill a person without someone firing it, it makes killing much easier. Many a Muggle has snatched up a gun and fired upon a friend or family member during a heated argument, only to regret it later. This is why, for example, I am not showing you how to perform these curses. When you kill someone, you take away their past, present, and future. It is not something to ever be done lightly."

Jenova knew that she was something of a hypocrite for saying this. She had killed, and casually, even after meeting Harry. But she was beginning to change after learning of her origins, and while her morality was considerably more flexible than Dumbledore's, she would at least follow his party line for the moment.

The class went quickly after that, more or less, with Quirrell managing to stutter his way through the rest of the material. Jenova resisted the urge to roll her eyes with difficulty. If it weren't for the fact that he stank, she'd be amused, or annoyed enough by the stammer to smear his face across a good part of the wall.

After the class was dismissed, Quirrell said, "An in-in-in-interesting lecture on th-th-the Unforgivab-b-b-bles, P-P-P-Professor C-C-C-Calamitas."

"I did my research. Besides, it's a good attitude to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst," Jenova purred.

"And y-y-y-you said th-th-that P-P-Potter may have been p-p-p-protected b-b-by his mu-mu-mother."

Jenova suppressed a frown. It sounded very vaguely like he very nearly said something else at the end. And there was his choice of which parent. "I said either or both of his parents may have found a protection for him. I mean, it's far more likely than some innate ability. I swear, some people badly lack common sense. Oh, and remember, it's Harry Gainsborough now. He doesn't mind being called Harry Potter, but he was adopted some time ago by Aerith's Muggle mother. They both are." She deliberately said that to needle Quirrell, or at least the falsely timid man's master. "He hates his fame. It was for something he didn't do."

"F-f-fame is a f-f-fickle thing," Quirrell said quietly. "I w-w-wanted to sh-sh-show everyone wh-wh-what I c-c-could do."

Jenova looked at Quirrell with some…shock, to be honest, though she kept it off her face. It sounded like one of the most honest things he had ever said. "And what did you do?" she asked.

He chuckled, ruefully. "G-g-got sc-sc-scared out of my w-w-wits!"

"Believe me, Quirrell…if you've seen the things Harry, Aerith and I did, it'd be even worse." With that, Jenova swept out of the room, ready to go for lunch.

* * *

Sharing Quirrell's body was not a pleasant experience, Voldemort considered. He hated sharing the body of another, acting as a parasite, when he deserved a body of his own. But teaching with Professor Calamitas was another matter entirely. She reminded him a lot of the Malfoys, particularly Narcissa, but with an intelligence far above those two snobs. And she radiated power.

The newcomers who had come with Harry were a dangerously random element: Madam Gainsborough and Professor Calamitas, along with their talking toy, Cait Sith, whom he had seen at breakfast. The former a Halfblood like Harry (and like Voldemort, though he didn't think about that), the latter claiming to be and acting like a Pureblood. But they were on Potter's side. He didn't care about the name change, as Harry Gainsborough was forever Harry Potter to Voldemort.

The boy was different, too. What little he had learned from Quirrell suggested the boy was supposed to be staying with Muggle relatives, not adopted by a family of mages. The boy seemed confident, if a bit on the shy and self-effacing side. And his eyes seemed older, more haunted, than they should have been. But he had been Sorted into Gryffindor like his accursed parents.

He wondered whether Dumbledore had told the boy about the prophecy. Probably not. The old fool liked to keep his cards to his chest. He was going to avoid bringing attention to himself, though, at least at first. He'd need to make sure that he did it while avoiding too much attention. Perhaps at a Quidditch match, he could collapse part of the stands, or send a Bludger at Potter(1).

Of course, he would need to be sure that Dumbledore took no overt action against him. An old fool he may be, but he was still powerful, and it was prudent to make sure that when he did destroy Dumbledore, it would be from a position of strength.

There was one thing puzzling Voldemort, though. He could sense the Dark Mark on his Death Eaters, as long as they were in close proximity to him. And yet, he could no longer sense the one on Snape. Had the canny Potions Master found a way to shield the Dark Mark from detection? Or had he managed the impossible, and removed it? Either way, Snape would be punished, especially if the Dark Mark had been removed. But first, he needed to get back to his full strength. Even Snape could be dangerous in a duel.

But there were two things that mattered most: obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, and taking the life of Harry Potter. Once Voldemort did those things, then all else was assured…

 **CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Jenova plays around with her students, as well as being deadly serious. And Voldemort plots and plans. Oh, and Quirrell shows a bit of his true self: I read on Pottermore that he went to find Voldemort in order to prove that he wasn't a joke. It didn't end well for him, as everyone knows.**

 **I tried finding the scene where McGonagall transforms in front of Harry and Ron, but it doesn't seem to be in** ** _The Philosopher's Stone_** **book. In the film, it happens. So I decided to keep the scene. While this is based more on the books than the film, I'm not going to reject certain scenes or nuances because they didn't happen in the books.**

 **Next chapter, the first Potions class, and Hagrid!**

 **1\. In** ** _The Best Revenge_** **, this is what he does: because Harry isn't a Quidditch player in that fanfic, he sends a Bludger at the stands instead.**

 **CHAPTER 9 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Voldemort's Theme** **:** ** _Sharaz Jek_** **, from** ** _Doctor Who: The Caves of Androzani_** **, composed by Roger Limb. If this is the music I am thinking of, it's a good one, as it has a very snake-like feel, with lots of rattles. Ironically, though Sharaz Jek is a deformed lunatic, and bloody creepy to boot, he's not truly evil, especially compared to Voldemort.**


	11. Chapter 10: I Bitterly Regret Lily's

**CHAPTER 10:**

 **I BITTERLY REGRET LILY'S DEATH**

Harry was enjoying Hogwarts. Oh, he did prefer what would have been called 'Muggle' education back home on Gaia (Reeve had helped tutor him in a variety of subjects, with some help from Nanaki when he could get away from administering Cosmo Canyon, and Yuffie when she was able to get away from Wutai), but to learn about magic was amazing.

Of course, it wasn't without its downside. History of Magic was, frankly, boring as shit (although he didn't voice the expletive out loud: Aerith berated him whenever he used swear-words, thinking Cid and Barrett a bad influence), with Binns droning on and on about goblin uprisings. Defence Against the Dark Arts was better, but only because Jenova took over when Quirrell's stammering got to be too much. He wondered about the DADA teacher with the turban. And while Astronomy was interesting, it also took place late at night. And it was hard not to get lost within the castle.

However, Transfiguration, while hard, was enjoyable (Jenova's demonstration of Hojo notwithstanding), Charms was very enjoyable (Flitwick being a delight as a teacher), and Herbology was, while dirty, interesting. It was also the area which Neville Longbottom indisputably did well in.

He didn't get to see Aerith or Jenova as often as he would have liked, though Cait Sith often came up to him during meals in the Great Hall. As it turned out, Hermione was fascinated by the robotic cat, as she didn't know that any robots existed with that level of technology. After some considerable debate with Jenova and Aerith, especially as Hermione wasn't quite a friend yet (her bossy demeanour being rather off-putting), they brought her to a quiet corner of the library and told her some of the truth: that Harry had, for the past several months, been living in a parallel world. Ron, who had been there, was brought along to confirm it, and Harry showed her his bangle, which had Materia on it.

The bangle was an Aurora Armlet, capable of absorbing ice-based magic. It had four Materia implanted in it, three of which Harry got for his birthday: a Final Attack Materia, a Phoenix Summon Materia, and a Full-Cure Materia. He also had an Enemy Skills Materia, one given to him by Yuffie as a means to help protect him.

This, of course, provoked even more questions from the inquisitive girl. Her eagerness was rather off-putting, but Harry offered to lend her his personal copy of _Loveless_. She was certainly willing: her name came from one of Shakespeare's plays, though Harry didn't know it. _The Winter's Tale_ , to be precise. And she liked reading things other than textbooks.

Harry, meanwhile, wondered what to do about Neville. He remembered what Sirius had once told him, that Neville's parents had been tortured into insanity by a quartet of Death Eaters. He considered approaching Neville about that, but wondered if he shouldn't. Aerith had decided that they should wait until their relationship with the shy boy strengthened before they brought that painful issue up.

Neville was told the truth about Harry, though, and while he found the concept of another world a bit hard to believe, he did accept it, especially after being shown the Materia.

Soon, the end of the week arrived, and Harry would have his first Potions lesson. He tried to calm himself: he had revised the textbook as best as he could as Snape had told him to. As much as the spirits of his parents told him that Snape was a bastard, his mother remembered the gawky and relatively kind boy Snape had been. And Potions, as a subject, was fascinating.

He received a letter from Hagrid during breakfast, inviting him to tea later that afternoon, as there was a free period after class. Harry and Ron decided to go, and Aerith had apparently been invited too.

The Potions class was held deep within the castle, in a cold and dank dungeon. The room was rather creepy, given the strange ingredients held in jars.

Snape was, as he always was, tall, dark, and forbidding. As he took the roll, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes. Harry Gainsborough. Our new… _celebrity_ ," he said quietly. Harry hoped that the disdain evident in the word was at the fame around Harry, and not at Harry himself, though it was probably a vain hope. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle chose that moment to snigger.

Snape, after taking the roll, looked down at them all with his dark, dark eyes. While his voice was somewhat nasal, it was also commanding and resonant. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said. If nothing else, he knew how to capture the attention of an audience. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe that this is magic." He stared at them as if daring to foolishly attempt to prove him wrong. "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…" Snape was in his element here, Harry could see. Potions was one of the man's greatest passions, and you could see it, subtly, in his eyes. The fervour dancing in those dark irises.

His voice nearly inaudible, and yet all the more captivating for it, continued. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death…" Suddenly, his voice, while not raising much in volume, all but lashed out. "…If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry fought not to gulp. He knew Snape was going to ask him a question.

"Gainsborough!" Snape snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Panicked, Harry tried to recall the information, but found nothing. "I'm sorry, sir. I do not know."

A faint sneer twitched at Snape's features, even as he ignored Hermione's outstretched hand. "Clearly, fame isn't everything."

Harry shook his head. It wasn't.

"Let's try again. Gainsborough, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Ah! This one he did know! "Bezoars are stones found in the digestive system of many animals, but the most useful one in Potions is found in the stomach of a goat: it's a potent antidote for most poisons."

Snape didn't sneer this time. "Perhaps you know how to open a book after all. Let us see if you have retained more than one fact: can you tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry sighed in relief. He knew this one as well. "No difference at all, sir. They are the same plant: aconite, a key ingredient in many potions."

Snape looked down at Harry thoughtfully, before saying, "Correct." His eyes flickered to Hermione. "Granger! Seeing as you are so eager to contribute, could you tell the class what Potter failed to know."

"Yes, sir! Asphodel and wormwood, when combined, are key ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. It is a potion so potent, only the antidote can wake the drinker."

Snape looked at the girl coldly, before nodding. "Correct, though verbatim regurgitation of facts is not an admirable trait." He then looked at the rest of the class, ignoring the hurt look on Hermione's face. "Well? Why aren't you writing this all down?" he snapped.

Harry did so, as did the rest of the class, rummaging for quills and parchment.

The lesson continued. Snape put up a recipe for a simple boil-curing potion, and had them pair up. Harry and Ron worked on their potion, and Harry took the lead, helping correct some of the mistakes that they nearly made. Reading the textbook in advance helped.

Unfortunately, Neville, in his nervousness, made a mistake Harry only noticed a moment too-late while he looked over to the boy. Snape was praising Malfoy's stewed slugs when Harry saw Neville's porcupine quills enter the cauldron he and Seamus were working on.

It was too late to get the boys away. Working on instinct, even as the mixture began to boil over, Harry brought up his arm, concentrated on the Materia, and yelled "Mighty Guard!"

A brief glow suffused Neville and Seamus, before the cauldron they were working on burst and sprayed Neville with liquid. The other students shrieked and got onto stools as the potion splashed onto the floor, hissing as it did so. Snape stormed over, waving his wand to clean up the faulty potion, and snarled, "Idiot boy! I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking it off the fire?"

Neville was staring at the cauldron in sheer shock. He didn't say anything in his defence.

Snape then rounded on Harry. "Gainsborough, what did you do?"

"I used a special magic, sir. It helps protect against physical and magical attack. It was the only thing I could think of to do in time, sir."

Snape seemed to debate with himself, whether to take points off Harry, before rounding on Neville. "A point from Gryffindor, Longbottom. You were lucky Gainsborough had just enough presence of mind to give you protection. You have also earned yourself and your partner a failing grade for the day."

Harry nearly protested at the injustice of it, but Ron kicked him under the table. "He can get nasty, I heard."

Harry reluctantly nodded, and returned to his potion. As much as he was glad he didn't lose any points, he didn't want to see Neville get into trouble.

Once the lesson was over, Snape told Harry to stay behind. Harry told Ron he'd meet him for lunch in the Great Hall, and stayed, standing, uncomfortably, under Snape's scrutiny.

Eventually, Snape asked, "What was that magic, Gainsborough?"

"Mighty Guard. I said what it did: it casts Protect and Shell magic, which are shields against physical and magical attacks respectively. I used this to cast it," he said, rolling back his sleeve to reveal the Aurora Armlet, and tapping the Enemy Skills Materia.

"I recognise the armlet and the other Materia: I was there when you got them for your birthday," Snape said, standing from his desk. As he wiped the recipe for the boil-cure potion from the blackboard, he said, "You were angry at me for what I did to Longbottom. At least Weasley had the good sense to remind you to mind your tongue, lest you lose even more points for Gryffindor. Potions is an exacting business, and the recipe must be followed to the letter for a reason. I have experimented enough with Potions myself to know that creativity can often lead to painful, and even lethal results. Had you not acted, the potion would have probably given Longbottom boils rather than cure them."

Harry remained silent. He was angry, but Snape, for all his nastiness, was correct.

"Good. You know how to guard your tongue better than your father," Snape said, finishing wiping the blackboard, and turning back to Harry. "I daresay your adoptive sister has been a good influence on you. She reminds me a lot of your mother. I…bitterly regret her death. Indeed, in the language of flowers, that is what my questions stood for. They were not just to test your knowledge, which you performed…adequately."

"You bitterly regret her death," Harry reiterated quietly.

"Indeed. I was able to speak to her for a time after I came to your birthday, Gainsborough. Minerva appeared to me, along with your parents. I only wished to speak to Lily, of course. Too much has happened between Potter and myself for me to even consider speaking to his shade. I wanted the love I felt for her to remain secret: only Dumbledore was to know. But she told you. Gainsborough, do not expect me to like you or favour you. But know that I have made a promise to your mother's shade that I will do my utmost to protect you from any threat against your life, and educate you about Potions. What I want from you is a commitment to learn all that you can, not to sit on your laurels. Am I understood?"

"Perfectly, sir. I want to be known not as the Boy Who Lived, but the Boy Who Strived."

Snape considered this for a moment, before a faint smile touched his features. Still somewhat acid, but there was a sentimental touch to the smile that Harry realised was genuine. "Then make that your goal, Gainsborough. Perhaps they should have made you a Hufflepuff. And remember that I do not want you discussing this conversation with anyone who doesn't know. That is all, Gainsborough."

Harry nodded, and left, but not before saying, "Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded, before contemplating his notes. It seemed that Potter's spawn was capable of being like Lily after all.

* * *

Aerith, Cait Sith, Harry, Ron, and Neville all went down to Hagrid's hut. They'd invited the timid boy along in the aftermath of his disastrous first lesson with Snape. They had even tried to get Hermione, but she was currently reading the copy of _Loveless_ Harry had loaned her, and said she might come another time.

Hagrid lived in a relatively small wooden hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Aerith was reminded, somewhat, of Gongaga, the hometown of her boyfriend, Zack. Late boyfriend, she reminded herself, though it was good to see him at times at the City of the Ancients. Still the same, eager young man.

As it turned out, Hagrid owned a rather large boarhound by the name of Fang. Large and intimidating but, like Hagrid, a real softy. Shown inside, they were served tea and rock cakes. They nearly broke their teeth on rock cakes, before Aerith suggested dipping them in the tea that they were given.

They discussed life at Hogwarts so far, including Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris, as well as Snape's first lesson. Harry decided to keep quiet about the relationship between Snape and Lily Potter, and so just told Ron and Neville that Snape had kept him behind to check the Materia.

"So, even Muggles can use this, eh?" Hagrid asked, peering at Harry's bangle, and the Materia set into it.

"As long as they have magical reserves. But actual people who can use magic without it are rare, unless they use a Limit Break," Aerith explained. "The Final Attack Materia triggers when it senses the person dying. By itself, it does nothing, but paired with a Revive Materia, it can bring the person back to life. The Phoenix summon brings forth a powerful phoenix, who not only damages your foes, but revives you and any of your allies who are recently dead or dying. So, paired together, it means Harry should survive if someone tries to murder him."

"There won' be anyone like that," Hagrid boomed.

"Hagrid, it's nice to see you believing in the good in the students, but Harry is considered to be the one who defeated Voldemort." Aerith grimaced when she saw Ron and Hagrid flinch. Neville squeaked. "And there would be the children of many Death Eaters in Slytherin's ranks who might want revenge. Putting this on him is a not unreasonable precaution. Of course, in a straight-out battle, he might have an edge. Remember what we told you of Sephiroth."

"Aye, I won' be forgettin' that in a hurry," Hagrid said with a shiver. "To think there's someone much worse than You-Know-Who."

"Worse than You-Know-Who?" Neville whimpered, unable to grasp the concept.

Harry nodded. "Voldemort was powerful, but he only wanted to conquer. Sephiroth…he wanted to destroy our world and become a god ruling over the ashes. He is seriously scary."

"And if it weren't for Harry, Sephiroth may have killed me not long after Harry and I first met," Aerith said. "Sephiroth nearly turned me into a shish-kebab with his sword. That we managed to defeat him was a near-miracle. He was a prodigy in both physical and magical combat from an early age. Even after we destroyed him, enough of his will existed and tried to pull Harry's soul with him into death. Harry managed to defeat him in a battle of wills. But you must realise that this was a near-thing."

"I wish I could be that brave," Neville said quietly, looking down at his feet. "Like my parents. They were Aurors, you see. But…" For a moment, he was silent, before he gathered the courage to admit, "My parents were tortured into insanity by the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Junior."

Aerith gently put a comforting hand on his back. "We know. We've known for a while. A friend of Harry's parents and yours told us. We just didn't want to talk to you about it because it must be a painful experience. But…well, you know about Harry and his parents. How about I tell you about mine? My birth name is not Gainsborough, but Faremis. My father, Gast Faremis, was a Muggle scientist and a good man, while my mother, Ifalna, was the last known member of our kind on my world. But shortly after I was born…remember that man Professor Calamitas mentioned in Transfiguration, Hojo?"

Neville's eyes widened, remembering the horrific monster. Aerith knew about the incident from having to help Pomfrey stop a couple of nightmares.

"Hojo was a Muggle scientist, but an evil one. He took my mother and myself away to be experimented upon. We escaped when I was a young girl, but my mother died in the process, though not before asking my adoptive mother to look after me. She was a Muggle, and yet, she treated me like I was her own daughter. Neville…just remember, you're not alone."

Neville nodded, weeping slightly. Harry's eye, however, was caught by a newspaper article, relating to a Gringotts break-in. Nothing had been stolen, though, as the vault in question had actually been emptied earlier that day. And looking at the date, it corresponded exactly with the date that he was shopping in Diagon Alley…and when Hagrid had taken that parcel out from the vault. And when Harry mentioned this fact, he noticed that not only Hagrid became evasive, but Aerith seemed to not quite meet his eyes either.

* * *

"You know something, don't you?" Harry asked Aerith as they made for the castle, Ron and Neville having already gone up ahead.

After a brief moment, Aerith nodded. "Harry…this is business Dumbledore has Jenova and myself working on. It's secret business, and it's best that you don't know. I can't ask you to forget about it, but please, concentrate on your schoolwork. I know you want to help, and are more than capable of doing so, but if you learn too much, you could be in danger, and so could your friends. But if you see or hear or learn anything, come to me, Jenova, or Dumbledore. I'm almost always in the Hospital Wing anyway, so come to me."

Harry nodded. He was somewhat hurt that his sister wasn't telling him the whole story, but at least he understood a little why. If she was being secretive about it, then it must be dangerous. But at least she said she could come to her if he heard anything.

But even so, he couldn't help but wonder what was in that grubby little package Hagrid had removed from Gringotts. Not gold, but definitely something valuable. And something it might be worth killing for, given the way Aerith warned him. But what?

 **CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Harry has a somewhat different first Potions lesson and a much-needed talk with Snape, Neville reveals his past, and Harry begins to have his suspicions about the Stone.** **As with Chapter 7, some of the dialogue here, particularly Snape's speech, is taken verbatim from the book.**

 **Now, in case you're wondering why Snape takes the point off Neville rather than Harry, remember that this Snape is already subtly more different than in canon. He has seen that Harry is not James Potter reborn, and while he is still struggling a little with that, and still a dick, he's beginning to show some self-reflection. This is also why, after Harry answers two of the questions, he asks Hermione to answer the first one. In normal circumstances, teachers would give points for those good answers, but Snape still only tends to give points to Slytherin. And, of course, in canon, he refuses to let Hermione answer. Here, he does, though he cannot resist a snide remark.**

 **Also, when Neville screws up, Harry, although too late to stop Neville, takes swift action to help him. Snape saw it happen, and takes a point off Neville, but not Harry. Keep in mind that canon Snape is a spiteful bastard, and frankly, this one still is. Just a little less spiteful. And his argument to Harry, while mean-spirited, is still a valid one: Neville should have followed the instructions to the letter. That Harry keeps his temper in check does…well, not impress Snape, but at least has him gain a very small modicum of respect for the boy. You'll also notice that here, I've implemented the popular fan theory that Snape is deliberately giving Harry a message in the language of flowers, only this time, he spells it out to Harry when they're alone.**

 **Also, you'll note that Hermione is on better terms with the others than she is at this point in canon. Not that much, but remember, she was a stuck-up little know-it-all initially. The troll incident will happen, but will play out differently than in canon: Aerith is attending Nick's deathday party, after all, and she's going to be taking at least Harry, Ron, and Hermione along. That will happen sometime in the next episode.**

 **Speaking of the next episode, you may have to wait a while for it to come out. I know that this episode came out quickly, but that was because the chapters did come out quicker than I expected. But, as Sander Cohen from** ** _BioShock_** **once said, my muse is a fickle bitch with a short attention span.**

 **No numbered annotations this time. Sorry. Ditto with the soundtrack suggestions.**


	12. Chapter 11: Seeking Trouble

**EPISODE 3:**

 **SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITIES**

 _A learning experience is one of those things that say, "You know that thing you just did? Don't do that."_

 _-Douglas Adams_

 **CHAPTER 11:**

 **SEEKING TROUBLE**

If there was one person that Harry grew to hate more than anyone else in Hogwarts, it was Draco Malfoy. Despite Harry and Jenova's offer of an alliance, he took their rejection of his friendship as a snub. And Slytherin was definitely a House divided.

Harry may not have noticed it had he not gone through his experiences on the Planet, but he did notice that there were, very roughly speaking, two factions within Slytherin. The first was composed mainly of the children of former (well, they claimed former) Death Eaters, with the worst of Pureblood attitudes (even if more than a few in this camp were Halfbloods: Harry knew that Snape was a Halfblood, thanks to his mother). Those were the ones Harry reckoned followed the 'slimy Slytherin' stereotype. They took their cue from Draco, who had plenty of ambition, but little cunning, just a conviction that his blood purity views were supreme. The second were those who came from families who were more neutral. A few held the blood purity views, like Blaise Zabini, but Harry noted Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were less like this(1). They held a more pragmatic view of the world and how to advance in it. The second faction were far less likely to engage in Potter-baiting, as it was becoming known, despite the fact that his name-change was meant to be well-known.

Of course, Cait Sith helped. Despite being made by Muggles, the toy was a hit at meal times, sometimes singing and dancing for the entertainment of the Houses. Even Slytherin, for the most part, enjoyed the cat's antics, which allowed him to eavesdrop on conversations: he was adapted to be a spy after all. And he reported his findings to Harry. He also warned Harry to be careful if he ever explored the castle: the third-floor corridor had a Cerberus hiding behind it. Harry nodded, but he also filed away the information. He still remembered Aerith and Hagrid being secretive about what was targeted by the Gringotts break-in, and something told him that the Cerberus was related. After all, Dumbledore's warning, and the response of others, suggested that this was something that was arranged now. And if they needed to keep it a secret…then Voldemort, or one of his followers, may very well be involved.

What did that mean, though? From what Harry had learned about horcruxes from Sirius, Dumbledore and Snape, it meant that Voldemort was currently a wraith of some kind. There were means he could get a new body, but all of them were difficult, from what Harry learned.

In any case, Draco and his circle of 'friends' (Harry wondered how many were just sticking around because of either the Malfoy fortune, or else mutual loathing of the vanquisher of Voldemort) gave Harry trouble, and it was all he could do not to react. Ron tended to react more, being somewhat hot-headed. Harry pointed out to him that a good Slytherin (Ron snorted at what he thought was an oxymoron) would be a good example: do not rise to the bait, and plan your retaliation covertly. He pointed out that they had allies in Ron's brothers, the twins. True bravery, Harry knew, was understated in most cases.

Unfortunately, the first flying lesson, which Gryffindor was sharing with Slytherin, proved to be a flashpoint. On the morning of it, Malfoy bragged about how good he was on a broom, and how he had escaped from helicopters. If his story was true, then he was an irresponsible little braggart. The Statute of Secrecy did exist here for a reason, after all. And on the morning of the day of the first flying lesson, he took a rather sinister interest in Neville's new Remembrall, a crystalline ball that was meant to remind someone that they had forgotten something (even if they couldn't remember what they had forgotten).

Hermione still tended to pelt them with facts and figures, but Harry knew that she was nervous about flying. And when he came to think about it, before he got to try flying on broomsticks at the Weasleys', the nearest thing he came to flying without an aircraft was when Scarlet had grabbed him in the claws of the Proud-Clad, and flew off. That was not a pleasant experience.

He remembered Jenova's wings, as well as those on Sephiroth and Genesis. Given that he himself had Jenova cells in him, would he be capable of the same thing? Of course, it would make him even more conspicuous than he was already.

Once they had arrived at the flying lesson, the distinctive figure of Madam Hooch strode forward, a striking woman with short, grey hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes. She had a no-nonsense demeanour, though, and had them all standing next to a broom very swiftly. She then told them to stick their right hand over their broom and say 'Up!'

Harry didn't know whether it was luck or preternatural skill, but his broom was one of the few that leapt into his hand at once. Hermione's simply rolled over like a playful dog, and Neville's, possibly in response to the fear in his voice, hadn't moved.

After everyone got the brooms in hand, Hooch then showed them how to mount them. Harry was amused to note that Hooch corrected Malfoy's grip, but kept the smile off his face.

And then, things went wrong. As Madam Hooch prepared to have them kick off, Neville kicked off too early, and began floating into the air, scared out of his wits. He then fell, landed on his arm, and broke his wrist.

Harry hurried over. When Madam Hooch asked what he was doing, he tapped the bangle on his wrist. He decided to use White Wind from the Enemy Skills Materia: Full-Cure was generally at its best on the grievously injured and would waste magical reserves. And sure enough, Neville was soon mended, though shaken.

Hooch nodded. "Five points to Gryffindor, Mr Gainsborough, though that was rather unusual magic." She looked around in the sky for Neville's broom, only to sigh in annoyance. "Unfortunately, Mr Longbottom's broom has drifted to the Forbidden Forest. I'm sorry, but we will have to continue the lesson without it. We'll arrange for another one later."

"We'll take turns," Harry said quietly to Neville, though Neville, understandably, seemed to want nothing to do with a broomstick ever again. Neville had opened up to Harry and the others since Hagrid's hut, and spoke of some of the things his uncle would do to try and get him to do magic. Harry thought the behaviour abusive: after all, who dangles their child out of a window to try and scare him into accidental magic? The fact that Uncle Algernon dropped him when distracted, and Neville was only saved by his magic only served to anger Harry more.

Come the summer holidays, Harry knew that he wanted to bring Neville over to the Planet. He was already considering bringing Ron, Ginny, and the twins to a day-trip to the Golden Saucer. Neville looked like he badly needed some good times in his life. Then again, the boy seemed at his happiest when dealing with Herbology. It was a shame he wasn't in Hufflepuff: for all some people's sneering that it was a House of 'duffers', the truth was, hard work and loyalty were amongst the best qualities of all, and Sprout would have loved to have Neville there, Harry was sure.

It was while they were finally in the air that disaster struck. Harry enjoyed flying, with or without a broomstick, his bad experience being snatched up by the Proud-Clad notwithstanding. While Hooch was distracted, answering questions from the effusive Hermione, Harry saw that Draco was, with the one hand not on his broom, idly throwing an object and catching it. Harry recognised the Remembrall.

"Draco," Harry called out. Draco looked briefly startled, before giving his customary sneer at Harry. "That's not yours. That's Neville's. You'll need to give it back."

Draco scoffed. "No. Maybe I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect. Maybe up a tree?"

Harry scoffed back. "So is that the extent of your ambition, Slytherin? Being a bully against those who can't fight back? Daddy would be so proud."

Harry's words were calculated. Had Snape heard them, he would have considered them worthy of a student of Salazar himself, although he would have to wonder whether Harry was channelling or rejecting his own father, a bully. And the Daddy remark, of course, stung at Draco's pride in his father. The blonde bastard often boasted about his father. For all of Lucius Malfoy's nastiness, Sirius had to concede that the man's intelligence and political acumen was good. Draco, however, had little of either. His best subjects were Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Harry suspected that Snape had a hand in tutoring Draco in the former at least.

Draco seemed to consider something, even as anger twisted at his features. Crabbe and Goyle weren't nearby, and Draco could at least see when he was outmatched for the moment. He sneered, before saying "Go on then. CATCH!" He then hurled the Remembrall away from him, and Harry, as hard as he could.

Harry watched as the ball curved through the air. He remembered, not so long ago, catching the Knights of the Round Summon Materia when it had bounced on the ground, and Sirius had told him that he had the reflexes of a Seeker. He remembered games of Quidditch, of a sort, that he had played in the backyard of the Burrow. And he didn't want Neville to suffer because of the petty cruelty of Draco Malfoy. So, without much thought, he zoomed forward, past a startled Draco, and began to dive, steeply.

A foot from the ground, he barely managed to catch the Remembrall and pull out from the dive. His elation and relief lasted all of ten seconds when he heard McGonagall yell his name.

* * *

His misery and conviction that he was going to be expelled from Hogwarts (at least he could get Sirius and Jenova to tutor him) lasted somewhat longer, at least until McGonagall brought him and a fifth-year student by the name of Oliver Wood into a classroom (evicting Peeves in the process, who had been writing words that would have made Cid or Barrett blush on the blackboard), and told the older boy that she had found him a Seeker.

"What?" Harry asked, blinking.

"Are you serious, Professor?" Oliver asked, ignoring Harry.

McGonagall nodded. "Absolutely. The boy's a natural on a broom. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Gainsborough?"

He shook his head. "But I haven't been using them long. The first time was in the week before school, at the Burrow."

"But to have such skill and only flying for a short time…" McGonagall said, trailing off. "He caught the thing in a fifty-foot dive and with not a scratch to show for it. Not even Charlie Weasley could have done it."

Wood was elated, and then turned to Harry. "Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Harry?"

"I've played a modified game at the Burrow," Harry said (after McGonagall explained that Wood was Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain), "and I've read about it in Kennilworthy Whisp's book. A friend of the family said I had the reflexes of a Seeker some time ago. But I haven't seen or played a real game."

Wood began pacing around him. He began murmuring about how Harry had the right build for a Seeker too, and made a recommendation for a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven for Harry.

McGonagall nodded, and said something about getting Dumbledore to bend the first years' rule. Which was when Harry spoke up. "Professor," he said, quietly, "is that about bringing a broom, or being on the Quidditch team? The rule I mean?"

McGonagall frowned. "Strictly speaking, the rule means the broom, though it is generally considered to mean that first years are not generally allowed to try out for Quidditch. This is partly because the positions are usually meant for older students. First years, for example, generally do not have the upper-body strength to be Beaters."

"Professor…while I would like to be on the team, I don't want to be seen as an exception to the rules," Harry said. "Is it okay if first year tryouts were done, for all Houses? I want to show my skill first."

McGonagall pursed her lips, before nodding, albeit with some reluctance. "I'll see what I can do. But when you do get on the team, Gainsborough, and I have little doubt that you can, I want to hear that you are training hard, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. He had dodged a bullet, and he knew it. "I just don't want Professor Snape saying I used my fame to get where I wanted."

"Severus," she sighed quietly, a lot of meaning going into a single, three-syllable name. "But yes, I understand your concern." And then, she smiled. "Your father would have been proud, though. He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

"I know," Harry said, smiling himself. Sirius had told him, after all.

* * *

Harry's position as Seeker was all but assured, regardless, and he was told to keep it quiet. Aerith and Jenova would be informed, and Harry decided Ron was trustworthy enough. Hermione, however, was close by, and pestered him for what had happened. After extracting a promise from her to remain quiet (using McGonagall's name helped immensely), Harry quietly told them about the events after the flying lesson.

Hermione seemed torn between berating Harry for being rewarded for breaking the rules, and praising him for thinking of others by getting McGonagall to agree to tryouts for the first years. Ron was amazed that Harry had become the youngest Seeker in over a century. And the twins, who turned out to be Gryffindor's Beaters, came over and quietly congratulated him, having been informed by Wood.

Unfortunately, things went sour when Malfoy, along with his minions, approached. "Having a last meal, Potter?" he sneered, deliberately using Harry's old name. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"I don't know," Harry said coldly. "When are you going to stop hiding behind your goons and your father?"

"I'd take you on any time, Potter," Draco sneered. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel."

Harry's eyes flickered up. Sirius had warned him that someone from a Death Eater family might try this, and had brought him up to speed on duelling rules. "Magic, then?"

"Of course. Wands only."

"Actually, I have a better idea. As I'm the challenged party, according to the rules, I choose the time, place, and means of duelling." He noticed Draco's eyes widen. This clearly wasn't part of Draco's plan. "You can use a wand. That is, after all, your strongest weapon." He slid his robe's sleeve up, revealing the bangle with Materia inset. "I will use Materia. And we will do this right here, and right now, with a teacher being a referee."

"Those baubles?" Draco sneered. "What can they do?"

"You'll see," Harry said. And he would have to avoid enjoying this.

 **CHAPTER 11 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **The first flying lesson and Draco's challenge, both done differently. And the duel with Malfoy is gonna happen next chapter.**

 **1\. I've decided to include some fanon, at least where it won't completely contradict canon. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis are often portrayed as Slytherin's more sane members, so I'm doing that here. Blaise Zabini is also often portrayed in fanfic as a more pragmatic Slytherin, but canon states that he still buys into the blood purity BS.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions this chapter. However, I will repost the character themes from** ** _Birthday_** **.**

 **The Melancholy of Albus Dumbledore** **:** ** _Secure Place (Save Room Theme)_** **, from** ** _Resident Evil 2_** **, composed by Masami Ueda, Shusaku Uchiyama, and Syun Nishigaki. This one is for Dumbledore's more melancholy or dark moments.**

 **The Boy Who Lived (Harry's theme):** ** _Terra_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **The Potions Master (Snape's theme)** **:** ** _Amarant's Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **The Flower Girl (Aerith's Theme):** ** _Flowers Blooming in the Church_** **(FTG).**

 **Jenova: TRUE:** ** _Succession of Witches_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VIII_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **Ron** **:** ** _Lazy Afternoons_** **, from** ** _Kingdom Hearts II.5_** **, composed by Yuko Shimomura.**

 **Hagrid, the Lover of Beasts** **:** ** _Steiner's Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**


	13. Chapter 12: Curbstomping Malfoy,

**CHAPTER 12:**

 **CURBSTOMPING MALFOY, COMFORTING MYRTLE**

Dumbledore had asked Harry to reconsider. Snape had asked Draco the same thing. Harry said he would reconsider if Draco did, and Draco, filled with confidence that his wandwork would beat those stupid little baubles, refused. Harry didn't fail to notice the wince on Snape's face when Draco refused to back down. For all his snideness and acid tongue, Snape had better Slytherin qualities than Draco: at least he could be subtle when he put his mind to it. Whereas Draco had all the subtlety of a Behemoth charging at its prey.

Dumbledore, when he saw neither would back down, reluctantly appointed Flitwick as an adjudicator. Harry was relieved. With Dumbledore or McGonagall adjudicating, Draco or Snape would claim favouritism, and Harry knew that Snape would favour Draco, despite his promise to protect Harry. Part of the Great Hall was transfigured into a duelling ring.

Harry followed the forms, and bowed. Draco did so. Neither had any sincere respect for their opponent, but the forms should be followed regardless.

But why had Draco challenged Harry to a duel in the first place? Harry considered it, and remembered what Draco had said. _Tonight_. He had probably just attempted to get Harry to break curfew, and fall into a trap.

 _Nice try_ , Harry thought. _Maybe Draco has some small Slytherin cunning after all_.

He briefly considered using wandless magic. Sirius had taught him to use _Expelliarmus_ without a wand after all. But that would be a last resort. No, he wanted to show Draco the power of Materia.

Flitwick stood between them. Gone was the cheerful Charms teacher. Harry had heard that the diminutive man was a famous duellist in his youth, which was probably why he was chosen to referee. The small man in front of them was now deadly serious. "Now, remember the rules. On the count of three, you cast your spells, and not a moment sooner. Nothing lethal or seriously damaging to the opponent. No physical contact either. The duel ends when one of you is completely incapacitated, or forfeits."

With that, Flitwick withdrew, and counted to three. The instant the count finished, Malfoy fired a spell at Harry. " _Tarantagella!_ " he yelled.

Harry leapt to the side, before touching the Enemy Skills Materia. He had a variety of spells to choose from, but if he wanted to make sure Malfoy was defeated without being harmed, there was only really one he could use. "Frog Song," he said.

Malfoy had enough time to yelp, "What?!" before he suddenly shrunk, becoming a frog with a startled expression on its face.

"Magic Hammer," Harry said, and a giant mallet seemed to appear above Malfoy, before whacking him on the head. Amazingly, he didn't seem to be harmed. As Harry repeated it, Flitwick asked Harry what he had used.

"Frog Song is a special Transfiguration spell with the results you see there," Harry said. "It's easily reversible: I just have to use the same spell again. But he can't use magic, unless he knows a similar spell to reverse the effects, and his physical attack power is down. Magic Hammer doesn't harm the one hit by it physically, but their magical reserves are depleted. You said no spells with any lethal or truly harmful effects. Magic Hammer," he concluded, whacking Malfoy again over the head with the mallet.

The frog glared at Harry, and tried to wave his wand, only for nothing to happen, beyond a croak that was presumably meant to be a spell incantation.

Harry turned to Flitwick. "He's unable to continue, Professor. Frog transformations do wear off over time, but it will be some time before it does. I can reverse the transformation, but I'm not doing so until the duel is over."

Flitwick frowned, before turning to the High Table and the teachers. Harry noticed that Snape had a sour expression on him, but nodded. "Then I declare Draco Malfoy to be incapable of continuing. The winner is Harry Gainsborough!"

Harry winced at the applause. As much as he wanted to bring Malfoy down a peg or two (and doing so publicly), the plaudits were another matter entirely. He heard some boos from the Slytherin table, but they were drowned out by the applause. He touched the Enemy Skills Materia again, and said, "Frog Song." Standing there, looking startled, was Draco.

Harry, observing the forms, went over to shake his hand. But Draco merely sneered. Harry, suddenly feeling not anger or hatred, but a sheer tiredness, turned and began walking back to the Gryffindor table, the duelling ring transforming back.

" _Serpensortia!_ " Draco suddenly yelled(1). Behind him, he heard a bang, and a hissing. He wheeled to find a massive snake slithering at him. And judging by those fangs it was baring at him, it was lethally poisonous.

He knew that he could, potentially, use Parseltongue to command it. But of course, that would not end well. Instead, he touched the Enemy Skills Materia, and yelled "Beta!(2)"

The snake seemed to be consumed by a nuclear explosion in miniature, crumbling to ashes in the blood-red mushroom cloud. Harry then glared at Draco, before shaking his head and returning to his seat, putting his head in his hands as the applause erupted once more. It got to be too much, and he left his seat almost as soon as he had sat on it, and strode out of the Great Hall, ignoring the voices crying out his name.

* * *

When he was a little over a year old, Harry, or rather whatever protections his mother placed on him, had saved his life, and defeated Voldemort. For that, he had become famous. Harry Potter became known as the Boy Who Lived.

When he was ten, he saved an entire world from the predations of Sephiroth. He had helped reform both Jenova and the Shinra Corporation. While not as prominent as Aerith or Cloud or Rufus or Barrett or many others, still Harry Gainsborough was famous.

And what had Harry just done? What had he just gained unwanted plaudits for? Putting an eleven-year old punk in his place. He already had unwanted fame for things he didn't do and did do. And now, he had gotten applauded for beating Draco Malfoy.

Okay, he had taken the boy by surprise, but Draco was nothing, really. The main danger of Draco Malfoy was his lack of scruples, and his similarly principled father. Rufus, for all his snideness and cruelty, could at least hold his own. Harry knew that Rufus could probably kick his arse in a straight battle, especially where Materia wasn't involved. Even with the wandless magic Sirius trained him in, Rufus was a more seasoned fighter, and more willing to finish things. Whereas Draco…

Harry needed somewhere to sort himself out. And when he saw a bathroom with an 'Out of Order' sign, he ducked inside. It might be a girl's bathroom, but if it had an 'Out of Order' sign, he doubted anyone would be using it in the next little while. Not with the water leaking from underneath the door.

Harry wasn't yet versed with much of Hogwarts lore. Otherwise, he might have been wary of entering this bathroom.

It was rather gloomy and depressing, rather like Harry's mood. A bit too damp, but frankly, he wasn't really caring about that.

He had barely started to mope about things when he heard a shriek. He wheeled to find a girl in Hogwarts robes, rather glum-looking, with dark hair and glasses, staring at him. She was also definitely a ghost, being pale and transparent. "What are you doing here?!" she yelped. "This is a _girls'_ bathroom!"

"But I thought it was out of order! I just…I just needed somewhere to think," Harry said.

"So do I!" the ghost retorted. "This is _my_ bathroom!"

" _Your_ bathroom?" Harry demanded incredulously. "It's Hogwarts' bathroom!"

"Nobody cares about what I think," the girl wailed. "Nobody cares!"

"Welcome to the real world," Harry muttered sullenly, with perhaps more bitterness than he meant. Then, he realised what he was saying. God, he was sounding like Cloud did at times. Calming himself with an effort, he said, "Sorry, I was…in a bad mood. I needed somewhere to hide, to think. Look…what's your name?"

"Myrtle…Myrtle Warren(3)," the girl said, sniffing, though she seemed amazed that anyone bothered to ask her her name.

"I'm Harry Gainsborough," Harry said. "You might have heard of my original name, Harry Potter?"

Myrtle nodded. "Well, yes. Every ghost in the castle knows. Just as they know me, Moaning Myrtle."

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, though he was now beginning to wonder whether consoling the ghost was a good idea. He wondered what he could say to the girl. Eventually, he asked, "Well, how did you come to haunt this place? How did you die?"

He winced, wondering whether asking how a ghost died was some sort of _faux pas_. Nearly Headless Nick had willingly demonstrated how he had died at the Welcoming Feast, from a botched execution involving an axe, but Harry didn't know whether it would be rude to ask any of the others. However, Myrtle lost her glum expression, which was replaced with a kind of morbid glee.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with a grin, clearly relishing telling the story of her death. Probably few people asked her. "It happened right in here." She floated over to a cubicle and pointed to it. "I remember it so well. Olive Hornby had been teasing me about my glasses, so I was hiding in here. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then, I heard someone come in. They said something funny, like it was in another language, all hissing and things. But it sounded like a boy, so I opened the door, about to give him a piece of my mind…and then, I died."

Harry frowned. "How?"

"No idea," Myrtle said with a shrug. "I do remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of just seized up, and then I was floating away…" Myrtle then gave a malicious grin. "But then, I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. I wanted to make her sorry she laughed at my glasses."

"And now you haunt a bathroom?" Harry asked.

"Mostly. I sometimes leave it. Sir Nicholas invites me to his Deathday parties sometimes," she said. "I can't leave Hogwarts or its grounds anymore, though. I haunted Olive Hornby all the way to her wedding…and, well, the Ministry stepped in.(4)" She got a profoundly sulky look on her face at that.

"Could be worse," Harry said, remembering the time when he was living at the Dursleys, when he was forced to remain in the cupboard for up to days at a time.

"What could be worse than being dead?" Myrtle demanded.

"Well, at least you're a ghost. At least you can speak with people," Harry said. "Besides, I've heard tales of Azkaban and the Dementors."

Myrtle shivered. "You have a point there. I wouldn't want to meet a Dementor, would you?"

Harry shook his head. Leaving aside the horror stories that Sirius had told him about Azkaban, the fact that a Dementor could consume someone's soul was even worse. Okay, Jenova could do the same thing, if what she did to the horcruxes was any indication, but she at least was not the monster she used to be. Whereas the Dementors…only the Ministry had any semblance of control over them. You either blasted them with a Patronus, or else ran like hell away from them.

Actually, that was one thing he needed to practise with Sirius, or perhaps he could ask Dumbledore, or even Snape to help him in that regard. A Patronus was useful for things other than a counter-measure against a Dementor. You could use them to send messages if necessary in an emergency.

Harry looked at Myrtle. "You know, Aerith, my big sister, said she was thinking of going to the Deathday this year, and taking me and the others. Maybe I might see you there."

"Well, you're always welcome back here," she said. "You seem nicer than most."

"Uhh, thanks. See you later, Myrtle," he said. But as he walked out of the bathroom, he had to wonder…when Myrtle said something about hearing hissing, why did that sound so eerily familiar?

* * *

He was on the way back to Gryffindor Tower when he ran into someone he wasn't sure whether he wanted to deal with. Snape was striding down the corridor towards him, his robes sweeping out like bat wings. "Gainsborough!" he called out. It was hard to tell whether he was angry, but the commanding tone was there, and Harry didn't want to get into any more trouble than he was in already.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, as Snape bore down upon him.

Snape, in response, opened a nearby door, to an empty classroom, and gestured curtly for Harry to enter. Harry did so with no protest, dreading what would happen if he did, but dreading Snape's response if he defied him.

"Sit!" Snape snapped curtly, indicating a chair behind one of the desks. Harry did so. Snape stood over him, looking down at Harry with his pitiless, dark eyes.

Eventually, Harry, unable to stand the silence anymore, said, "Sir, if this is about Draco…"

"Of course it is about Draco, Potter…Gainsborough," Snape corrected himself with a grimace. He visibly calmed himself with some breaths. Eventually, he said, "That spectacle…that farce…that was very dangerous, Gainsborough."

"How so, sir?" Harry asked. Not with any arrogance, but with genuine curiosity.

"Use your brain, Gainsborough! I know you have one, aside from rote learning!" Snape hissed. "You managed to turn Malfoy's ploy against him! But in doing so, you may have made an even greater blunder!" He reached forward, and grabbed Harry's sleeve, exposing the bangle with the Materia embedded in it. "Giving you these may give you protection, Gainsborough, but they are also a double-edged sword. Such Transfiguration as you did with the Frog Song spell is advanced. I would go so far to say that it would impress a NEWT examiner! And that Magic Hammer spell…not to mention Beta, that powerful fire spell. These are too advanced spells for a child to have in his possession."

"Are you saying that I shouldn't have them, sir?"

" _That is not the point I am trying to make, Gainsborough!_ Five points from Gryffindor, and I will take more off if you interject again," Snape snarled. "The point I am making, Gainsborough, is that most, if not all of the school saw you not only defeat and humiliate Draco Malfoy, the son of one of the richest and influential men in this country, but you used unusual magic, based on unheard-of magic foci. No doubt many of them are licking their chops, coveting the Materia already."

Harry's eyes widened. In other words, someone might consider stealing them! And of course, there was Malfoy's father to consider.

"I see you understand the gravity of the situation at last. And I will admit, you handled Draco better than your father would have," Snape conceded, his voice becoming less harsh. "But you have also exposed abilities that will have people whispering about you. The only way it could have been worse is if you spoke to that snake in Parseltongue. Your fame was already at Olympian heights even before that duel."

Harry looked down at the floor, before saying, quietly, "I hate it. The fame, I mean. You said in the first Potions lesson, 'fame isn't everything'. And you're right. I know that. I've known it for a long time. But they don't. They're going to think I'm either the next Voldemort, or the next Dumbledore. I've beaten worse than Voldemort myself, but…fighting Sephiroth…I wouldn't wish that on anyone. That's why I left the Great Hall, Professor. I just didn't want to hear the applause any more. All I did was defeat Draco Malfoy. He isn't a dark lord, or a would-be god. He's just a spoiled brat with a rich father." He sighed. "How do I get them to see me for being me? Not the Boy Who Lived, but…me?"

"I am the wrong person to ask, Gainsborough," Snape said quietly. "I have not had to deal with fame. However, I am glad of it. I am not one who enjoys attention."

"But haven't you ever wanted to be acknowledged for your own achievements?" Harry asked.

Snape was silent, at least briefly, before he said, "Acknowledgement is one thing, fame is another. But I understand what you mean. But also remember to rein in your impulses. You may hate Slytherin, but you could take a lesson from a Slytherin: never reveal everything that you are capable of. Always have something to surprise your enemies."

"I don't hate Slytherin," Harry said quietly, and noting Snape raising an eyebrow at that. "I just hate the blood-purists. But thank you for the advice. May I go now, sir?"

Snape nodded. "Just remember what I said, Gainsborough. And keep an eye on your Materia."

As Harry made for the door, he stopped, and turned to Snape. "You do know…my mother bitterly regretted that day? The day your friendship broke?"

Snape was impassive at first, and Harry wondered whether he had made a mistake. But Snape finally inclined his head. "Minerva allowed me to speak with her," he said quietly.

That was all that needed to be said between the two. Harry left the room. And soon, Snape followed, knowing that things were going to heat up very soon. And it wasn't just because of Malfoy. After all, there was a certain rat to deal with…

 **CHAPTER 12 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, Malfoy just got his arse handed to him by Harry. The meeting with Myrtle wasn't planned, but as I had Harry leaving the Great Hall so that he could get away from the applause, I thought of him trying to find somewhere isolated to think, and had this notion that he meets Myrtle. A bit contrived, but yeah. I also thought that Snape lecturing Harry about the consequences of his actions was a good idea. This Snape is evolving into a better character, slowly but surely.**

 **In case you're wondering why Harry's being so emo after beating Malfoy, well, think about it. He accepted Malfoy's challenge on the spur of the moment, but twisted it around. But not only did he beat him easily, but Harry knew it would piss him off even further. The applause he got also told him his star was rising again, and Harry is allergic to his fame, particularly that in Magical Britain.**

 **By the way, a lot of Myrtle's discussion of her death is transcribed from** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **.**

 **1\. In** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **, it's vaguely implied in the book that Snape was teaching Malfoy to use that spell just before his second bout with Harry. However, I think it's more likely that Snape taught Draco that as part of his privately tutoring his godson in the Dark Arts, and was just telling Malfoy to use it against Harry. Here, Malfoy uses it on an impulse rather than with Snape suggesting he do so.**

 **2\. I decided to have Harry use Beta against the summoned snake as a bit of irony: you learn Beta from the Midgar Zolom, a big frigging snake.**

 **3\. I used Myrtle's surname, as divulged by JK Rowling (according to the Harry Potter Wiki). I've heard other surnames, like de Winter and Hart.**

 **4\. I don't know whether this is canonical, but I have read it in at least one fanfic, and I liked that concept enough that I used it.**

 **CHAPTER 12 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Curbstomp Battle** **:** ** _Battle Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu**

 **Myrtle's Theme** **:** ** _Forever Rachel_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu**


	14. Chapter 13: Operation: Rat in a Cage

**CHAPTER 13:**

 **OPERATION: RAT IN A CAGE**

It had been McGonagall who had finally confirmed (using some discreet spellwork) what everyone in the know had suspected for a long time: Scabbers, Ron's rat, was definitely an Animagus. The circumstantial evidence was now great, and so, it was decided to make a move as soon as possible, once Amelia Bones had been contacted.

The big question was, how to get the rat? And how to make sure that he didn't escape? Harry didn't know that another factor was involved: as Voldemort or one of his agents was at Hogwarts, they would also need to keep it as secret as possible.

It was Jenova who decided that Fred and George Weasley would be recruited. For all their tendency to pull pranks, their hearts were in the right place, and even better, they knew Occlumency. And they had taken Scabbers from Ron and Percy before to do tricks. After some debate, it was agreed to bring the two in.

They understood the need for discretion swiftly. After all, it wasn't every day you caught someone who may have been a Death Eater. Not to mention the material for teasing Ron and Percy about sleeping in the same bed as an older man for so long.

Operation: Rat in a Cage went off more or less swimmingly on the night of Harry and Draco's duel. Harry played his part, distracting Ron with a chess game in the common room in Gryffindor Tower. Harry was not that great at chess. He was a bit better at Go, a game Yuffie had played with him(1). The twins, meanwhile, managed to snatch Scabbers and take him away, sending him to sleep. Ron didn't notice Scabbers was gone until after he had beaten Harry again. Harry had to admit, Ron had a good mind when he applied it.

Ron realised Scabbers was gone, and looked around. As he began to fret, Harry closed his eyes, and tried speaking mentally to Jenova. _Jenova, can you hear me?_

 _Loud and clear, Harry. Has Ron noticed?_

 _Yeah. How's it going up there?_

A malevolent chuckle echoed through their connection. _Operation: Rat in a Cage is all but over. Let's just say that I like this Amelia Bones woman. She's almost as formidable as I am. And Pettigrew is pissing his pants. He's begging for his life, claiming Sirius did it, but Bones has said something about Veritaserum and…damn! Oh no you don't, you little shit! Gotcha! Sorry, little bastard managed to overcome the Animagus reversal spell. But he's not going anywhere. I've given him to some guy called Shacklebolt, who has a nice little cage for our rat._

 _So, do I tell Ron?_

 _Yeah. Go ahead._

"Ron…I need to talk to you about something…in private," he added.

"But Scabbers is gone. He could be anywhere!" Ron wailed.

"Ron…it's about Scabbers. I need to tell you on the quiet…"

* * *

It took some time to explain it to Ron in the dorm (thankfully, with nobody else present). He was, after all, understandably upset about not being kept in the loop. "But why didn't you tell me?" he demanded. "I thought we were friends!"

"Of course we are, Ron!" Harry replied. "But think about it: if you knew Scabbers was Pettigrew beforehand, if we told you before we were ready, you might've treated him differently, and he might have scurried off because he smelt a rat! Well, one that wasn't him, anyway. It's how he managed it in the first place when he framed Sirius."

Ron, rather moodily, subsided. Then, a rather stricken look came over his face. "Oh, bloody hell," he swore.

"What?"

"I've had him in bed with me!" he said, making a retching noise of understandable disgust. "I might need to Obliviate myself!"

"It could have been worse," Harry said.

"How?!" Ron demanded.

"It could have been Voldemort," Harry laughed, only to have Ron throw a book at him.

"That's not funny!" Ron snarled.

* * *

Jenova was enjoying herself immensely, giving a shark-like grin to the rat cowering in the cage she was holding. _Well, being a rat suits you, Pettigrew_ , she thought. _Well, that'd be an insult to rats. Rats may be carriers of illnesses, but for all their bad reputation, they're at least intelligent and not malicious. But you…you betrayed your friends. Sent one off to Azkaban, and the other, along with his wife, to the grave. I wonder, did you do it out of cowardice, or because you were malicious? Maybe you thought Voldemort could make you great. Well, I wouldn't call staying with the same family for the best part of a decade, masquerading as a pet, greatness. How you got into Gryffindor, I've no idea_.

She handed the cage back to the black wizard she had taken it from. Kingsley Shacklebolt took the cage. "You're finished?"

"With him? Not by a long shot," Jenova said. "I'm tempted to show him a hell that would make the Cruciatus spell look like heaven. As it is, if you do sentence him to the Dementor's Kiss, I want to watch it happen."

"You're a strange one," said another Auror, a grizzled, scarred lump of a man with a false leg and a magical false eyeball that seemed perpetually on the move, and whose scrutiny Jenova found somewhat uncomfortable. "I don't like you, Calamitas."

"How hurtful. But perceptive. And refreshingly honest, Mr…?"

"Moody," the man said.

"Moody…well, you can rest assured, Mr Moody, that I am a danger only to my enemies, and that list is a thankfully short one, with none of those present on it…save for Pettigrew, of course." She gave a winning, if somewhat predatory smile that she knew would not reassure the scarred man one bit.

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, "Professor Calamitas has proven herself worthy of my trust, as has Miss Gainsborough."

Amelia Bones, a stern-looking woman with a monocle, nodded. The current head of the DMLE was considered to be one of the best heads of the department ever, being able to balance intelligence, fairness, and discipline. "Strange that you had intelligence of this, though. Does this have anything to do with the anonymous Pensieve memories I have been receiving? Memories that appear to be from the possibly-to-be-exonerated fugitive Sirius Black?"

"Madame Bones, as a character in a Muggle TV series once said, 'You might think that, I couldn't possibly comment'(2)."

Bones raised an eyebrow. She very nearly reminded Dumbledore that harbouring a fugitive could very well lead to a sentence in Azkaban, but decided not to. Between Pettigrew and the Pensieve memories received from Sirius, it looked like Black could potentially be exonerated. Her mind was now currently trying to think about how to sell this to Fudge. Perhaps she could get Fudge to see this as the current Minister for Magic overturning the mistakes of his predecessor. He would love the political capital that could be made from that.

Of course, this was counting one's chickens before they hatched. They needed to get Pettigrew secure, interrogate him with Veritaserum (Dumbledore had offered some of Snape's personal stock, but she declined politely, pointing out that she needed accountability, especially in such a delicate matter, and couldn't risk tampered Veritaserum), and then have him put on trial in the Wizengamot. Then, they needed to find Sirius, who had disappeared from Azkaban.

"We will discuss this later," Bones said. "Moody, Shacklebolt, let's go. Goodbye, Dumbledore, Professors." Her eyes flickered over to Aerith, whom she had learned was Harry's current guardian, and she nodded politely. "Miss Gainsborough." And with that, the head of the DMLE, her two Aurors as escort, and their prisoner left through the Floo.

"Charming fellow, that Moody," Jenova remarked, albeit with an amused smirk on her face.

"He's one of the most famous Aurors in the DMLE," Dumbledore said. "Somewhat paranoid, though I believe a popular Muggle saying is that paranoia is when they're _not_ out to get you. He made many enemies of Death Eaters, hence the injuries. He was also one of the most trusted members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"The anti-Voldemort resistance movement you told us about," Aerith murmured thoughtfully.

"Indeed. He often shouts about constant vigilance. Perhaps I could arrange a meeting once this is over. He is an interesting man despite his quirks, and a font of knowledge about Death Eaters and their tactics. And a skilled combatant. Unless he had offended you."

Jenova chuckled. "Dumbledore, I fought alongside some pretty strange people against my own son. He reminds me a little of Cid, actually, just with less swearing and fewer body-parts of his own. If I took offence at everyone who took offence with me, I'd be leaving a pretty long trail of bodies behind me."

"At least they will take precautions regarding his Animagus form," McGonagall said, pursing her lips. "Pettigrew's, I mean. To think, he was alive and well this whole time…and the real traitor."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Those were darker times, and our concerns and preconceptions clouded our senses. I could have arranged for a trial, for Veritaserum to be administered to Sirius, but I really did think he was the traitor. Then again, a Secret Keeper wouldn't make themselves so conspicuous." He put his head in his hands, and murmured, "Another mistake to add to the litany."

"It's not what mistakes we make, Albus," McGonagall said quietly, "but what we do to remedy them. Your words, if I recall."

Dumbledore nodded, slowly, but as he straightened, he looked every second of his age. His eyes had lost their twinkle, and only a soothing trill from Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix companion, seemed to restore any of that. Aerith moved over to the magnificent, regal bird. Dumbledore noted that while Fawkes was often wary (understandably) of Jenova, he was quite accepting of Aerith. There was a purity in the young woman few could match. Although there was an impish sense of humour that reminded Dumbledore of himself. Or Ariana, before the traumatic attack by the Muggles.

Dumbledore plucked a sherbert lemon from his bowl and put one in his mouth pensively. Even now, he clung to vestiges of the philosophy that he and Grindlewald had hit on, 'for the Greater Good'. He had hoped that he had gotten himself out of that extreme utilitarianism, but his actions with Harry only showed that that philosophy had merely mutated. Not that utilitarianism was necessarily bad, mind. But it was how one applied it.

 _They look up to me as the leader of the Light_ , Dumbledore thought quietly. _But I've been playing chess with their lives. Taking due care not to sacrifice any pieces if I could…but I fear I may have been too detached at times. Too fixated on the ends, and not thinking enough about the means. And stopping Voldemort will not stop all dark lords from rising, now and forever. And Harry…he is uncomfortable with being a figurehead, a symbol to the Light. It is better than indulging in his fame, true, but…I wonder…what do I do? What can we do?_

 _No. Focus on stopping Voldemort. Once we do that, then we can worry about everything else_.

* * *

In his dreams that night, Harry dreamt of Luna. Except it wasn't a dream. It was like the times that he met Jenova within his own mind, and the landscape of the Lifestream. It felt too real.

They were on the edge of the Great Northern Crater, sitting on the rim, watching the green fountains of Mako Energy spraying high into the air. It was eerie, and beautiful. When Harry became aware that he was here, and Luna was sitting next to him, he leapt up, startled, but was prevented from tumbling down the slope of the crater by Luna. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"I came to help. We are linked through the Jenova cells within us, and I sensed your distress from home. The Blibbering Humdingers are getting to you," the girl said. She was looking like Sephiroth again, pale skin, silver hair, and the slitted eyes, albeit of blue rather than the cold sea-green of the infamous swordsman. Strangely, a single, large silvery wing protruded from her back.

"No, just my fame," Harry said.

"Fame is like an infestation of Blibbering Humdingers. People look at you differently when you have an infestation," she said. "Or when they think you're mad. But sometimes, madness is just another perspective. Everyone has a different perspective on a single person. Take my mother, and your guardian. Jenova…in the legends of the Cetra, both on the world she landed, and this one, she is considered a monster, an evil entity capable of nothing but destruction. To Sephiroth, initially, she was a mother, until she became little more than a tool and a slave in his eyes. To me, she is like a long-lost mother I had long wanted to meet. To you…what is she?"

Harry thought about it. It wasn't like he hadn't before. Eventually, he said, "Maybe like an aunt now…a bit crazy, though, but my actual aunt…she hated me. If I used the words I want to use, Aerith would berate me for talking like Cid or Barrett, though I think she would agree with me. But Jenova…she's a bit crazy, but…I trust her to watch my back. I think Aerith does so too, even though Jenova decimated the Cetra. But what we saw in her memories…even Jenova didn't remember."

"To be once the goddess and guardian of an entire world…and then to become the demon of another. That is…tragic," Luna said, looking at the Crater with sad eyes. "To fall so far. Even Sephiroth or Voldemort didn't fall so far. She will probably spend the rest of her long, long life atoning for what she did. But at least she wants to atone. Few would know that, or care. But think about yourself, Harry. Think of how others view you. Most see only the Boy Who Lived. A few know something of the real you."

"Do you?" Harry asked. "I mean, you're inside my head. And this comes from my memories."

"It actually comes from Jenova's memories, though they are yours, as she was in your head at the time," Luna said quietly. "Fame is a double-edged sword. The question is, how you use it. Many will expect you to face Voldemort, to be the one destined to face him."

"There was the prophecy Minerva told me about," Harry said. He remembered what Minerva had told him, when he had come to the Planet long ago, and recited the verse to Luna.

Luna nodded. "But Voldemort could have ignored it. Or he could have taken you and turned you to his own devices. Instead, he thought that by killing you, he could outright defy the prophecy, when in fact, thanks to your parents, he ended up fulfilling part of it. And he won't ever stop. After all, you are the only one who managed to defeat him outright. Even going to the Planet may not be enough to stop him. Minerva may not be able to stop someone determined to enter the Planet. Or leave it through the Goddess' Gate."

"Like Sephiroth," Harry realised with a shudder.

"Exactly. The wizards and witches of this world are powerful, but few would have even a remote chance against Sephiroth," Luna said. "But I've wandered from my point. My point is, while you shouldn't have to face Voldemort, you are more than capable of doing so, even now. But you shouldn't do so alone. Don't hide or run from your fame, but don't exploit it until you need to. Gilderoy Lockhart uses it like a bludgeon. Use yours like a scalpel."

Harry blinked. "Wait, who's Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Luna chuckled. "A so-called monster hunter with an inflated reputation, a big ego, and bleached teeth. He has a bad case of the Wrackspurts, and he doesn't think Crumple-Horned Snorcacks exist. But we're looking for the evidence, Daddy and I."

"Well, that's good," Harry said. Despite her eccentricities, and the fact that she was a Jenova being (he didn't want to call her a creature), there was something endearing about her. Then again, even back on the Planet, back home, he knew some strange types. Hell, one of his best friends was an extremely erudite mountain lion! Then there was the _kunoichi_ princess, and the immortal shapeshifter…Luna, by comparison, wasn't so strange.

"One day," Luna said, looking at the Crater, "I hope to see this sight with my own eyes, and more. Perhaps Daddy might want to come."

"Will Minerva let you come through?"

"I may," said Minerva, seemingly appearing, as if she was always there, next to Luna. The goddess looked at Luna, with a smile. "I have…become a bit more judicious when it comes to Jenova's ilk. Without her help, we may never have stopped Sephiroth. And I sense the purity in you, Luna Lovegood. A shame Jenova shares not your purity and gentle nature." Minerva looked over at the Crater. "I have to wonder…if the time ever came for me to use the Omega Sanction…would I end up like her?"

"Well, aren't you the all-knowing goddess?" Luna asked cheekily.

Harry winced at Luna's impertinence (though to be honest, he had toed the line himself in previous conversations with Minerva more than once), but Minerva chuckled. "I am a goddess, true, but I am neither omnipotent nor omniscient. I am close, but there are many questions even I know not the answer to. And I cannot do everything, or else I would have been able to stop Sephiroth alone." Minerva turned to Harry, her face now solemn. "Harry, beware. Through you, I sense the foul presence that had once resided in your scar. What is left of Voldemort stalks the halls of Hogwarts. Remember your mother's protection, but also remember that while Voldemort is nowhere near the level of Sephiroth, he is still a danger to you."

Harry paled, but nodded. "Thank you for your warning, Minerva."

The dream went on a bit more pleasantly than that, with Harry, Minerva, and Luna speaking like old friends. A goddess, a Jenova hybrid, and the Boy Who Lived. A strange trio to be friends, but then again, stranger had happened.

* * *

Meanwhile, in his prison of Quirrell's flesh, Voldemort thought. He had witnessed, through Quirrell's eyes, Harry's duel with that son of the cowardly Malfoy. The spells he had used were too advanced for the boy, and yet, he had performed them, and using what had seemed to be mere baubles, crystalline orbs set in a bracer.

The boy had held back from vanquishing Malfoy, despite the obvious advantage. This was demonstrated even more when that powerful fire spell destroyed the snake. A fool of a boy, but Voldemort had noticed that the boy during the fight had the intensity of a warrior who had already fought many battles.

He needed more information. And perhaps he could find a way to take that power for himself. After all, power did not deserve to be left with those too weak to seek it…or keep it.

 **CHAPTER 13 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Pettigrew has been captured, Harry has a heart-to-heart with Luna and Minerva, and Voldemort covets the Materia. Good times all around.**

 **1\. I'd be willing to bet that the Planet has Go as well as chess. Go is a game of strategy like chess, but is both deceptively more simple and yet far more complex in many ways. Go look it up if you're unfamiliar. I'm sure Ron would take to Go like a duck to water.**

 **2\. Dumbledore is using the catchphrase of Francis Urquhart from the first TV adaptation of** ** _House of Cards_** **, as spoken famously by Ian Richardson (the first miniseries was transmitted in late 1990, about a year before these events: maybe Dumbledore caught an episode on TV). I don't know whether his American equivalent says anything similar in the latest adaptation of** ** _House of Cards_** **.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions this chapter.**


	15. Chapter 14: Happy Deathday

**CHAPTER 14:**

 **HAPPY DEATHDAY**

He didn't know whether it was Minerva's warning, or just a heightened sense of something wrong, but during the next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, Harry felt himself become suspicious of an incident involving Quirrell. Harry had relayed Minerva's warning to Aerith, Jenova, and Dumbledore, and their lack of surprise suggested that they knew something about it. They had urged Harry not to divulge anything to anyone else: panic would spread like a plague. He understood, but he was also annoyed that he was being kept out of the loop, although he could understand why.

During DADA, Harry was called to the front of the room by Quirrell. Jenova was watching, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "N-n-n-now, G-G-Gainsborough, d-d-during your d-d-duel, you d-d-demonstrated some highly advanced m-m-magic. C-c-c-could you p-p-please explain?"

Harry looked at Quirrell, and then at Jenova, who nodded. It was decided some time ago to give the Materia a cover story, in order to conceal their origins from another world. "Less than a year ago, I ended up in an isolated community of magic users," he lied. Or almost lied. It wasn't that far from the truth. "Instead of using wands, they use a special focus called a Materia. Each Materia has a different effect. The one I used on Draco during the duel was an Enemy Skills Materia: it is able to memorise certain attacks performed by magical creatures and your adversaries, and allow you to use them. There are 24 known Enemy Skills, which are all on this Materia. They're not just offensive attacks, either. If you were at Potions, you might have seen me use Mighty Guard, a skill that places physical and magical shields over you. At the flying lesson, I used White Wind, a healing technique. Materia usually have a set purpose, so unlike a wand, they're not as versatile with magic. But they also have more powerful magic, and can 'grow' through use."

"Thank you, G-G-Gainsborough. M-m-may I see the M-m-materia?"

Harry rolled up his sleeve, exposing the bangle again. "W-w-why are they d-d-different c-c-colours?" Quirrell asked, his spidery hands a little too close to the bangle for Harry's comfort.

"They each have a separate purpose. A green Materia uses magic. The blue one is support Materia, and enhances the Materia it is linked to. The red one is a Summon Materia. Yellow Materia aren't necessarily magic, but are called Command Materia, because they help give you abilities you may not necessarily have, like the ability to sense the attributes of a monster. There's also purple Materia, called Independent Materia. They enhance health, magic, physical strength…"

Harry couldn't help but notice the faintest hungry gleam in Quirrell's eyes. He hoped he had imagined it, because it was gone when Jenova cleared her throat pointedly. "Thank you, G-G-Gainsborough. But if you d-d-didn't have the M-m-materia, or your w-w-wand, what would you d-d-do?"

"It depends on my opponent. I would either run away, or fight."

"Like a Muggle?" Draco sneered. Even after the duel and its conclusion, he still had a rather cocky attitude.

Quirrell rounded on the boy, an uncharacteristic flash of anger in his eyes. "Mr Malfoy, without a wand, a wizard has little to defend himself but _by_ fighting like a Muggle, unless they know wandless magic! What would you do if an opponent cast _Expelliarmus_ at you, or managed to take and snap your wand?"

Harry was startled. Quirrell had never been angry before, and he had shaken off his stutter only a few times before.

"I don't know!" Draco yelped.

"Then it is g-g-good that I am here to t-t-teach you," Quirrell said, his anger subsiding, and his stutter returning. "When f-f-fighting against any opponent outside a d-d-duel, you d-d-do whatever it t-t-takes to w-w-win. Even a M-m-muggle can get lucky and d-d-defeat a w-w-wizard."

* * *

The days went by after the duel, Pettigrew's capture, and that strange DADA lesson, where Harry found himself increasingly wary of Quirrell. Something about him stank, and it wasn't just garlic.

But there were other things to keep in mind. The news of Pettigrew's capture and subsequent questioning eventually made its way to the front page of the _Daily Prophet_. Fudge was promising Sirius Black a proper re-trial if he came out of hiding, and from what Aerith and Jenova had told him, Sirius had gone to the DMLE. He was now (albeit secretly) under house arrest at 12 Grimmauld Place, while Bones and Fudge set up the re-trial. At least one head was due to roll: Barty Crouch Senior, the DMLE head at the time, and the one to send Sirius to prison without trial.

Then, there was Quidditch. True to her word, McGonagall had persuaded Dumbledore to allow Harry onto the Gryffindor team, as well as hold tryouts for interested first years. Not many actually did, though Ron did try out himself, namely for Keeper. Oliver Wood himself was the Keeper for the Gryffindor team, but he encouraged Ron to try out for other positions. He told the disappointed redhead that, in a few years' time, Oliver would graduate from Hogwarts, and Ron could try out again: he did have good potential as a Keeper after all.

Harry managed to prove himself as a Seeker. Unfortunately, his desire to try and make sure he wasn't seen as exploiting his fame did backfire: Malfoy managed to become Seeker of the Slytherin team, helped, possibly, by his father buying the Slytherin team Nimbus Two Thousand brooms. Harry was disgusted, but Oliver noted that, for all his bragging, Malfoy did have some potential as a Seeker.

Harry got his own Nimbus Two Thousand, and was soon practising with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Practise took up three evenings each week. Harry found that he was rather good at being a Seeker. He wondered how much of it was natural talent, and how much of it had been honed by dodging Petunia's frying pan, or fighting battles back home on the Planet.

He could now definitely count Hermione and Neville amongst his friends. Hermione was definitely still a bossy know-it-all, and she had a choice comment or two to make about both the flying lesson and the duel (and the attendant rule-breaking, as she saw it), but her interest in the Planet had brought them together, and in a conversation with Harry as they discussed History homework, she admitted that she had made few friends at Muggle schools. And many of those mostly wanted her help with homework. Harry did admit she was a help, particularly with the boring History homework, but he wanted her to be more than just a source of information. Ron was somewhat more ambivalent, but Harry pointed out that Hermione, being a Muggleborn, might be at sea with the magical world, and he could help her with things that she couldn't get out of books.

Neville was definitely a contrast to Hermione. Compared to her assured nature, he lacked self-esteem. His formidable grandmother had compared him to his parents, and especially his father, many times, and held Frank Longbottom as someone to aspire to. Harry didn't have any problem with having Frank Longbottom as someone to look up to, but Neville's domineering grandmother had gone about it the wrong way. Neville even had to use his father's wand, despite the fact it may not be suited for his magic.

And that was without Snape targeting Neville in Potions. Harry had asked the Potions Master once whether he could team up with Neville, but Snape refused to budge. So, instead, Harry, Hermione, and Ron took it upon themselves to help tutor Neville on Potions theory, their presences more salutary than Snape's.

Halloween arrived, and with it, the smell of baking pumpkin, and the latest Charms lesson. Ron and Hermione were teamed up, but unfortunately, Hermione's oft-abrasive personality struck again. Harry and Seamus Finnegan had been trying to levitate their feather, but Seamus had set it on fire by accident. Harry managed to get it to float about an inch off the table, but that was it.

Hermione had corrected Ron on his pronunciation of the incantation of the Levitation Charm, _Wingardium Leviosa_. Ron, annoyed, had told Hermione to try it herself, which she promptly did, making it float all the way to the ceiling, earning praise and points from Flitwick.

Ron was in a rather sour mood afterwards. He looked like he had some choice words to say to Hermione, but Harry stopped him. As they made their way to the next class, however, Harry talked to Hermione himself. "Hermione…I know you were trying to help Ron…but I don't know whether that was the way to do it."

"How is he going to learn if he doesn't do it right?" Hermione asked irritably.

"Well…there's a saying I heard once: you get more flies with honey than vinegar," Harry said. "Look, Hermione…I'm saying this because you're a friend. I don't want you and Ron blowing up at each other. We'll try to work on it with Ron together, okay?"

Hermione looked sceptical, and to tell the truth, both she and Ron were shooting each other annoyed looks during later classes. But it was better than what could have happened.

Soon, the evening came, and Harry and his friends, along with Aerith, made their way to the dungeons for Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday celebration. Harry missed what could have been a grand feast, but he knew that one of the reasons for Halloween being celebrated here wasn't just because it was a date related to the occult and magic. It was the day Voldemort was defeated, and thus, the day he was robbed of his parents. The day his legend was started. He'd go another year, but he had to admit to being curious about the Deathday Party. Plus, Myrtle might be there. Hermione seemed eager to go, given that she was curious, though Ron and Neville less so. After all, the dungeon area where the party was being held was cold, and the eerie black tapers decorating the corridor didn't help.

Nearly Headless Nick was waiting for them, solemnly, near a doorway covered by black drapes. "My dear friends," he said quietly, sweeping off his plumed hat in greetings, "welcome. So pleased you could come."

"No trouble at all, Nicholas," Aerith said, smiling. "It was Helena who recommended we come. I trust you have made catering arrangements for us, though?"

"Indeed I have, Miss Gainsborough," Nicholas said. "It is rare that the living come to such a party, though. Where is Professor Calamitas?"

"She decided not to come," Aerith said. Jenova had felt uneasy about being around ghosts who might know she was the Calamity from the Skies from the legends of the Cetra Exodus. So she was currently attending the Halloween feast. "That's all right, isn't it?"

"Indeed. To tell the truth, Miss Gainsborough, she makes many of us nervous," Nicholas admitted. "But enough of that! Please, this way!"

* * *

The room beyond was an incredible sight, filled with hundreds of ghosts of various kinds. Not all of them were from Hogwarts, Nicholas explained. Harry recognised the Fat Friar, the Grey Lady (aka Helena Ravenclaw, according to his mother) and the Bloody Baron. Myrtle was also present, and gave Harry a little wave, although she still looked somewhat glum.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "why did Moaning Myrtle wave at you?"

"Long story," Harry said, having not mentioned his sojourn into the closed girl's toilet after his duel with Malfoy, save to Aerith and Jenova. They had admonished him somewhat, but in good humour. The toilet, after all, was signposted as out of order, and Aerith had actually gone to meet the young (relatively speaking) ghost.

True to his word, Nearly Headless Nick had made sure that some food was present, or at least some that wasn't rotten. As they ate, Helena Ravenclaw glided over, and sat opposite them. "It's good to see you again, Aerith," the young woman said.

"Likewise," Aerith said with a smile. "This is my adopted brother, Harry, and his friends, Ron, Hermione, and Neville."

The four friends introduced themselves politely to Helena Ravenclaw, who smiled. "It is good to have the living and the young here. And I have heard good things about you from Sir Nicholas, Hermione. It's a shame you weren't Sorted into my House. But now is not the time to consider would-have-beens."

Aerith nodded, but before she could make any kind of reply, a rather unwelcome presence made itself known, sliding out from underneath the table with a malicious grin. Wearing a bright orange party hat, a spinning bow tie, and a wide smile was none other than Peeves the Poltergeist. "Nibbles?" he asked in an unctuous tone, offering Aerith a plate of mouldy peanuts.

"No thanks," Aerith said, with a somewhat forced, sweet smile. When Peeves all but shoved the plate into her face, she then said, rather less sweetly, "Seal Evil."

With a flash, and an indignant squawk, Peeve froze like a statue, before falling to the ground, his plate clattering away. "What did you do?" Helena asked. "Not that I mind you doing it to Peeves, but…"

"A Limit Break," Aerith explained with a smile. "Don't worry, he's just paralysed for a little while." A high-pitched growl wormed itself out of Peeves' frozen lips. With an impish smile, Aerith took one of the mouldy peanuts and gently pushed it between Peeves' lips. "Nibbles?" she asked sweetly.

If the looks of a poltergeist could kill, Aerith would have needed a Phoenix Down right then and there. Of course, an even less likely event occurred shortly thereafter.

A dark chuckle began to build into a deep, hoarse roar of laughter. Aerith turned to the source, to find the chain-bedecked ghost of Slytherin, the Bloody Baron, laughing his head off. A macabre sight that was, given how gaunt and blood-soaked and impassive he usually was, but he was laughing.

"Why is he laughing?" Harry asked, uncertainly.

Helena, who had more than a little history with the Baron (he had been her murderer, apparently), grimaced, but said, "Until now, he has been the only person who could control Peeves and put him in his place. Aerith is now the second."

"Well," Aerith said, thinking to herself, "the effect will take a while to wear off. Anyone have any ideas on what to do with him?"

"Oh, _lots_ ," Nicholas said, with a grin on his face.

* * *

Jenova was enjoying herself in the Great Hall. She had been discussing Potions theory with Snape when a rather brutal interruption happened: Quirrell, who mysteriously had been absent, suddenly ran into the Great Hall. "TROLLLL!" he screamed. "TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS!" He made it to the High Table, and panted, "Thought you'd like to know," before sagging to the ground in an apparent dead faint(1).

The ensuing commotion was quietened by Dumbledore, who showed his authority by calling for silence, and telling the prefects to take the students back to the House dorms.

Jenova, however, caught Dumbledore's sleeve as the students filed out. "Dumbledore, the troll was spotted in the dungeons. The Slytherin dorms are there, and Hufflepuff isn't too far from them."

"I know, Professor Calamitas," Dumbledore said quietly. "The teachers who aren't helping me deal with the troll will escort those students there. They will come to no harm.(2)"

"Wait!" Jenova said, frowning. "Aerith, Harry, and his friends…they're in the dungeons for Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party. And they don't know about it!" She looked around, only to realise that Quirrell had gone. "Quirrell!" she hissed. "He's after the Stone!"

"I know. Severus is heading him off. Professor, go find the others. Warn them about the troll."

Jenova nodded, and began running out of the Great Hall. Once she had a clear corridor, she allowed her wings to burst from her back. She literally flew down the corridor, her wings beating as she sped down. _Harry!_ she yelled through the connection. _Where are you?_

 _We're getting out of the dungeons. We've finished with the Deathday Party. Let's just say that Peeves didn't like it. What's the matter?_

 _There's a troll in the dungeons! Find somewhere safe! I'm coming to get you!_

* * *

Even as Jenova shouted that into Harry's mind, an overwhelming smell, of disused toilets and old socks, tugged at Harry's nostrils. And around the corner came the troll, a big lumpy brute of a creature.

"Oh, _shit_ ," Harry muttered.

"Language," chided Aerith and Hermione, albeit half-heartedly. They could see the troll themselves, after all.

"What do we do?" Neville whimpered.

" _Run_ ," Aerith said quietly. And as one, the quintet turned and ran, the troll behind them giving a triumphant howl, and running after them…

 **CHAPTER 14 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **The events of Halloween shaping up differently, it seems. Hermione and Ron don't have as big a falling out, a Deathday Party, and the troll!**

 **Now, firstly, you may be wondering why Ron didn't say Hermione was friendless, like in canon. The reason why is that their relationship is at a better level than it was in canon, so while he's angry at her, he doesn't insult her, though he's sorely tempted. Harry wants to head things off, though, and acts as a peacemaker (in canon, it tends to be Hermione keeping the peace between Ron and Harry, I noticed).**

 **Secondly, why hasn't Harry used his Materia against the troll, you might ask? Well, Jenova has already covered trolls (in order to make up for Quirrell's stammering), and discussed their resistance to magic. In addition, Harry is not sure what magics he can use, and to be fair to him, he's also a little tuckered out after a day of lessons at Hogwarts. In other words, he lacks MP, and may not be able to use his best magic against the troll. We'll discuss this in the next chapter.**

 **By the way, how many of you guys like Aerith owning Peeves? :P**

 **1\. I mentioned this in a similar annotation in** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **(my original version, anyway: soon, I may do the rewrite), but I like the movie version of the scene, if only for the comedy value.**

 **2\. One of the common criticisms levelled at Dumbledore is his handling of the troll incident. Here, I add some extra information that** ** _could_** **have happened in canon. Keep in mind that Snape is not the only Slytherin teacher, and that others could have gone with the students from Slytherin to protect them.**

 **CHAPTER 14 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Deathday** **:** ** _Phantom Train_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **PEEVES!** **:** ** _Kefka_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. This is a perfect theme for Peeves, don't you think?**

 **Flight and Fight (Fleeing and Fighting the Troll)** **:** ** _Memories of the World_** **(aka** ** _The Fierce Battle_** **from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **), from** ** _Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo's Dungeon_** **, originally composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and arranged by Yuzo Takahashi**


	16. Chapter 15: Postbellum

**CHAPTER 15:**

 **POSTBELLUM**

 _Harry?! What's wrong?!_ Jenova yelled through their link.

 _The troll! It's here! And I'm not sure if I have enough energy to use anything from the Materia! Aerith's getting us somewhere to hide, but this thing's coming after us!_ Harry yelled back.

"Shit!" Jenova snarled out loud as she flew down the corridors. She closed her eyes, briefly looking through Harry's own. She knew where they were in an instant.

As she changed course, she found McGonagall along the way, and so landed near her. "Professor Calamitas, what are you doing?" she demanded.

"Same thing as you! Troll-hunting! Come on, the others are in danger!" Without any further ado, Jenova grabbed the indignant teacher, and flew down corridors and stairwells, hoping she could get there on time…

* * *

As they fled down the corridor, Harry touched his Materia. After the lessons today, he didn't have enough energy to use the Phoenix summon, and many of the Enemy Skills were out.

There was one that could buy them time. He touched the Materia, and yelled, "Matra Magic!" Missiles seemed to blast from Harry, whirling in mid-air, and smacking into the troll. It did little, except to anger the troll.

"Harry!" Aerith called. "Give me the bangle!"

Hurriedly, Harry ripped it off and handed it to his adoptive sister, who hurriedly put it on. She then whirled to face the troll, and yelled, "PANDORA'S BOX!"

The troll howled as high-intensity magic assaulted it. It was naturally resistant to magic, but the onslaught of Pandora's Box badly hurt it. Once the attack was over, however, it was still moving. Bleeding from a dozen different places, but it was still running, and it crashed into Aerith, sending her into a wall with a sickening crack.

Harry stared at Aerith, as the troll stomped towards her prone body. Aerith had been left semi-conscious by the troll's attack, and it picked her up, snarling.

Harry felt a sick feeling in his stomach. It was like the Snow-Woman all over again, or like Sephiroth, swooping down from on high. Aerith was no damsel in distress, but unless he did something, Aerith was going to die.

Suddenly, he felt the by-now familiar feeling of a Limit Break. He held out his hands, palm first, at the troll. "Mother's Fire!" he screamed.

This was the first Limit Break he had ever used, when trying to save Aerith and Elena from the Snow-Woman. Unlike that time, where he was horrified at the death of the Snow-Woman, here, he was merely grimly satisfied as the light from his hands enveloped the troll. With a howl, it began to rot and decay, flesh falling from its bones, and the bones turning to dust.

Another effect of Mother's Fire, Harry had learned that day, was the healing of nearby allies. After being suffused with a golden glow, Aerith got, shakily, to her feet, in time to be tackled by Harry, who didn't say anything. He just wept gently.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, looking at the dusty remains of the troll in horror.

"Harry told me about this," Ron said, staring at the ashes in awe. "It's something called a Limit Break."

Neville just hid his face in his hands and whimpered. He didn't know what was scarier: the recently deceased troll, or Harry and his abilities.

Aerith suddenly felt Harry sag against her. "Harry? Harry?!" She quickly cast a diagnostic charm that Pomfrey had taught her, and realised that, between casting spells and using a Limit Break, he was exhausted, sent into unconsciousness by physical and magical exhaustion.

Jenova chose that moment to turn up, McGonagall in her arms. "What happened?" Jenova demanded.

"Long story," Aerith said. "Get Harry to the Hospital Wing, now! Tell Pomfrey to use an Ether for magical exhaustion!"

Jenova nodded, grabbing the unconscious boy from Aerith, before flying back the way she came. McGonagall turned to Aerith. "What about you, Aerith?" she asked, dropping the formality in her fear for the young woman's safety, not to mention that of Aerith's charges.

"I'm sore all over," Aerith said. "But I'm fine. Professor…what the hell happened?"

It wasn't often that Aerith swore, even when emerging from a life or death situation. McGonagall looked at Aerith, and then at the ashes that used to be the troll, before saying, "I was about to ask you that very thing."

* * *

The Potions classroom was not far, and Snape, limping heavily, had come down not long afterwards with Quirrell in tow. The latter took one look at the ashes of the troll, muttered something about not being needed, and scurried off. Snape took Aerith to the Potions classroom, the others in tow.

Aerith used White Wind to heal what Harry's Limit Break didn't. Snape checked her over anyway: he had some small qualifications as a Healer. As he did so, she related the story of what had happened, with the children occasionally clarifying a point.

Afterwards, McGonagall decided to take the children back to Gryffindor Tower: they were shaken up by their ordeal. Of course, the trio of Gryffindor kids extracted a promise to be allowed to see Harry in the morning.

After they left, Snape seemed about to leave, only to have his leg nearly give out from underneath him. Aerith was on him in a flash, helping him keep steady. "Let go of me," Snape hissed.

"No," Aerith replied. "You're hurt."

"I've dealt with worse pain," Snape replied in a bitter tone. "Compared to the Cruciatus Curse, this is nothing."

"Snape…I can heal that. Please, let me."

Snape gave a little snarl, before acceding. He allowed Aerith to gingerly roll up the leg of his trousers beneath the robe. Aerith inhaled sharply at seeing the vicious bite wound. "Looks like a dog's bite," she said.

"This is Fluffy's doing," Snape sneered.

"The Cerberus?" Aerith asked, before casting White Wind at the wound.

Snape winced as the wound began to close, but he nodded. "I knew someone, probably Quirrell, had released that damned troll as a diversion. I went to the third floor corridor, but that damned dog didn't take too kindly to my presence."

"Well, I'm sure it wasn't your sunny personality," Aerith said cheekily.

Snape snorted. "If you were a student, I would have taken points off for that insolence."

"Good thing I am not a student…of Hogwarts, anyway. A Cetra must consider themselves a student of life and the cosmos, though. I was told that once in Cosmo Canyon. Funnily enough, the man who told me that was not a Cetra," Aerith said. "He was a bit like Dumbledore in his way.(1)"

Snape grunted, before trying his leg tentatively. He then walked over to his desk, and sat down. "This is beginning to get out of hand," he said. "Dumbledore wants the Stone to be bait in a trap for the Dark Lord. The additional defences provided by you and Jenova will help, but the Dark Lord, or his agent, is growing bolder. The troll was a spare for the defences around the Stone. While it is possible someone else freed it, I'm almost certain that it was Quirrell. The students are in danger, and none so much as your brother. I fear that this troll incident might only be the beginning of some sort of escalation."

"Escalation? You mean he will become more overt?"

"The Dark Lord was a genius, true, but he was also mercurial and impulsive at times, particularly towards the end," Snape said. "Given what I have read about horcruxes, it may be that the splitting of his soul also damaged his mind. The Death Eaters originally used guerrilla tactics, but towards the end, when I joined, they became far more bold. If the Dark Lord thinks he can get away with something, he would do it. True, the same could be said for any Slytherin, but some also lack the ability to do so under the radar, as the Muggles would put it. The troll wasn't a direct attack on Harry, even though he did end up involved. But I fear that that may change."

"How would he target Harry?"

"There are a lot of ways. Offhand, I'd guess his first Quidditch match: Harry falling to his death in front of hundreds would be a good psychological attack against Magical Britain in general, and Dumbledore in particular. It would be somewhat stupid to do so publicly, true, when there are other methods, but the Dark Lord was about making grand gestures, not subtle ones. Covert, yes, but subtle, no."

"But from what Dumbledore told me, if Voldemort is possessing Quirrell, then nothing less than the sealing array he has on the Mirror will trap him, at least until we deal with the remaining horcruxes. Besides Harry, we've dealt with the Ring, the Locket, and the Diadem. That leaves the Cup and this book." Aerith sighed. "It's Harry I'm worried about most of all. If Voldemort does target Harry…don't get me wrong: I know that in a straight fight, Harry has more of a chance against Voldemort than anyone would think, if they weren't blinded by the legends around him. But Voldemort is more experienced, and completely immoral."

"Indeed," Snape said. "And he will be fixated on destroying Harry. He does not take kindly to defeat. If he ever returns to full strength, he will focus on that goal. Oh, he will do his utmost to infiltrate and take over the Ministry. He still has many potential powerful allies in the Wizengamot, including Lucius Malfoy. Already, Lucius is questioning my loyalties, given my lack of action against Harry for the duel. Which I think is funny, considering he claimed to be under the Imperius Curse while I had to ask Dumbledore to vouch for me. Lucius is also too curious about Materia, and about where Harry had been."

"I've been meaning to ask that," Aerith said, "but it slipped my mind. How did Harry's new name get known? I noticed people responded almost as much as if they called him Harry Potter?"

"Dumbledore gave the _Daily Prophet_ a press release, which they blew out of all proportion. They reported the actual press release quite truthfully, for once, but it caused a stir. The story was that Harry ran away from home early this year, and was found by you. You belonged to an isolated group of mages in America who live in harmony with Muggles. Obviously, he had to leave some details out, and modify others, but some people are smelling the artifice."

"Why America?"

"Your accent, along with that of Jenova's, sounds American(2)," Snape pointed out. "Though your cat toy sounds Scottish."

Aerith shrugged. "I think my mother spoke like she had what you'd think of as a British accent," she mused. "My birth mother, I mean. But I grew up in Midgar, in the Shinra labs, and then in the slums." She sighed. "But you're right. Sooner or later, some if not all of the secret will emerge. And Harry, myself, and Jenova will be viewed with envy. How close is Lucius Malfoy to the truth?"

"Not very," Snape admitted. "But he is suspicious, and canny. What's more, he has the ear of the Minister. Fudge is a weak dunderhead, more concerned about power and image than with governing properly, and he's willing to accept…'donations' to worthy causes in exchange for favours."

"Bribes," Aerith said disgustedly.

"I believe Lucius prefers to think of it as good business," Snape said wryly(3). "I am sure that Rufus Shinra operated in a similar manner."

"I think that was more his father's style," Aerith said, remembering the rotund would-be king of the world, President Shinra. As unpleasant and nasty as Rufus had been, his father was even worse. Rufus tended to be colder and more impersonal, whereas President Shinra tended to hide his evil behind joviality. But when Aerith and the others had tumbled into the Lifestream during Ultima Weapon's attack on Mideel, she had seen many of Rufus' memories, including his mother's brutal murder at the hands of Rufus' father.

And Rufus had stood with them as they fought Sephiroth. And he was reforming Shinra into something better than it was.

"Do you think any of the Malfoys can be brought out from Voldemort's shadow?"

Snape seemed surprised by the question, but he considered it. "Lucius is too far gone in that regard. He still has the Dark Mark, and he still follows the blood purity rhetoric. Narcissa, his wife, is like Jenova, rather haughty, but she cares about Draco and family. She follows many of Voldemort's doctrines, but she isn't a Death Eater, and if it was completely to her advantage, she'd switch sides. Draco's still young, and still impressionable. Unfortunately, his father has left such an impression on him. The best I can do without it getting back to Lucius is to steer Draco subtly. I am his godfather after all. And even that may not be enough." Snape looked so tired, and even old, then, far more than his years suggested. "I fear his life ambition is to become a Death Eater. And I may not be able to stop that."

* * *

Dumbledore paced his office angrily. _Damn you, Tom!_ he snarled within his head. _You had Quirrell unleash that troll on the school. It may not have been a targeted attack against Harry, but you knew it could have hurt the children! Damn you to the depths of Perdition, Tom!_

Fawkes, sensing the fury in his friend, sang a song. Dumbledore, for a moment, resisted the soothing tones of the phoenix's song. But Fawkes was older than he, and would probably outlive him. Nobody knew if, when, and how phoenixes truly died. And Fawkes' song finally weaved its magic on Dumbledore.

"Thank you, old friend," Dumbledore said, walking over to Fawkes. "But…tonight seems like yet another mistake to add to the litany. Another blot on the ledger. Am I doing the right thing? Am I going about this the right way?"

Fawkes gave a trill that Dumbledore knew (from long experience) meant something along the lines of, _I'm your counsellor and friend, not your advisor_.

"I know, I know," Dumbledore said quietly, before going back to his desk and taking another sherbet lemon. "But in trying to trap a tiger," he mused, more to himself than anything else, "have I left it to roam free in a paddock of lambs?"

The silence was almost an answer to himself, and a damning one. He could only hope that Voldemort was lured into the trap long before any further disaster could occur.

 **CHAPTER 15 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **The troll attack and its aftermath, with Aerith and Snape having a heart-to-heart. And Dumbledore struggling with his doubts.**

 **Now, in case any of you are wondering about Dumbledore, my take on him is that he is a fundamentally decent, but flawed man. He's somewhat ineffectual at times, and believes that his way is the best. And he finds himself torn between doing what he believes is right, and what will be expedient. Remember, this is a guy who is afraid of his own power after that whole lover's spat with Grindlewald. But, and this is a major point I want to make,** ** _he is still a good guy_** **. If anything, previous events are making him a little better than in canon. He hoards knowledge less, unless it is vital to keep it away from Voldemort's ears, and he trusts his allies more with information.**

 **Snape is evolving much more. I'd like to think that he is becoming a more decent man, albeit gradually. He doesn't show it as much to Harry, and even to the others, he is probably not unlike Avon from** ** _Blake's 7_** **: snide, a brutal pragmatist, and openly disdainful of optimists and those who don't meet his standards. But Snape does care, and more than Avon (as much as I like Avon, he's frankly a prick, especially towards the end of** ** _Blake's 7_** **).**

 **The Mother's Fire Limit Break makes its return! Yay!**

 **Now, review-answering time. One of the first is one that was on** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **.** **SuperVegitoFAN** **pointed out some things about Umbridge, as well as the sad irony that Christopher Lee, the man who I thought would make an excellent Diamond Weapon, has passed. A shame.**

 **Shadoweater666** **pointed out that the whole language of flowers thing was NOT a fan theory, but Rowling putting it in deliberately. I'm not completely convinced he was trying to build a bridge with Harry, because given what happens, it seems like a token gesture more than anything else. Here, Snape is perhaps a little better than in canon, and reaches out more. And Harry, knowing more about Snape and the man's history with his mother, tries to reciprocate. It's difficult to see whether they will have a truly positive relationship, but Snape and Harry are certainly on far better terms than in canon, and Snape takes on something of a mentor relationship, something that Arsenoe de Blassenville's** ** _The Best Revenge_** **inspired me to do. Snape is still a prick, though. Just less of one.**

 **Klaw117** **: Look up Wikipedia regarding the language of flowers. As for Cedric, well…bugger. Then again, a lot of fanfics put students into years they shouldn't canonically be in. Chalk this down to artistic licence. Or maybe Cedric was able to advance a year in DADA, and is with the fourth years. I dunno.**

 **Ddragon21** **: Harry will be less of a slacker than he is in canon (though History will be an exception), and he will probably be able to get Ron to raise his game. Ron has enough intelligence to be able to win a good chess game, so there's something in there. They're not going to be geniuses by any means, but Harry is already good at putting things together: even now, he is suspicious about the Cerberus and its link to what we know is the Philosopher's Stone.**

 **And last, but by no means least,** **Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros** **has effusively reviewed my story, though I am sorry to put him to inconvenience. Firstly, Ron might learn a weapon, though what that is, I don't know. Ron and Hermione will have to use weapons during my version of** ** _Advent Children_** **, after all. I'm glad you liked the wand choices for Jenova and Aerith, as well as my backstory for Luna.**

 **As for Harry using Legilimency in such a manner, I don't think he would want to cross such a line. Only if he was desperate would he do such a thing. That being said, he would learn how to defend himself from such an insidious attack.**

 **Yes, Neville will be developed further. I think he gets a boost early on from Harry helping him more. He'll be one of those coming to the Planet during the holidays, and I think he'll get a particular boost from Cloud and the shade of Zack. Aerith's also a good role model: she's quiet and gentle, but she also hides steel.**

 **As for Filch, well, I told Zane in a PM that he hit on what I was already planning to do. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Filch will be getting a Materia or two. In fact, I might actually expand on his backstory: I'm unaware of what fanon is around him, so I'll be making stuff up based on what little there is in canon.**

 **Jenova will be teaching assistant for DADA at least until the end of the second year. She might end up being forced out of Hogwarts, though, if her true nature is exposed, rather like Lupin.**

 **Thanks for your thoughts on Jenova's 'death' while handling the Ring, as well as my 'happy' theme for Dumbledore. You'll notice that I have re-introduced his theme (along with other characters' themes) back in Chapter 11: remember that Dumbledore has two themes, one for his more frivolous self, and the other for his darker, more pensive side.**

 **1\. It may not be clear, but Aerith is referring to Bugenhagen. This conversation doesn't actually take place in the game, but there's no reason to say that it didn't, off-screen.**

 **2\. The first time I brought up the fact that most, if not all, of the voice actors for the English language version of the** ** _Compilation of Final Fantasy VII_** **and** ** _Kingdom Hearts_** **use an American accent (well, they are American. Duh). Aerith has some knowledge of Earth's geography and politics thanks to Sirius and Harry (particularly the former).**

 **3\. A similar exchange occurs between Solid Snake and Kenneth Baker in** ** _Metal Gear Solid_** **. As much as I like** ** _The Twin Snakes_** **(despite, and sometimes because of, the OTT action sequences), I do prefer some of the dialogue from the original version of the game, and that is why I used a variation of Baker's dialogue from the original version of** ** _Metal Gear Solid_** **. I also think that some of the delivery didn't work out on some lines in the new version.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions for this chapter.**


	17. Chapter 16: The Mark of Jenova

**EPISODE 4:**

 **ESCALATION**

 _You'd delay an execution to pull the wings off a fly._

 _-The Doctor on the Master, from_ Doctor Who: The Deadly Assassin _, by Robert Holmes_

 **CHAPTER 16:**

 **THE MARK OF JENOVA**

Soon, the day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was upon them. Harry was understandably nervous. Oh, he had been in more dangerous situations, true, but it was his chance to show what he was made of.

As he struggled to eat his breakfast that morning, he got a bizarre encouragement of sorts from Professor Snape, who walked up behind him, and said, "Good luck today, Gainsborough." A faint sardonic sneer twisted his features, before he said, "Then again, now that you've beaten a troll, I'm sure a little game of Quidditch shouldn't be any problem. Even if it is against Slytherin, and Malfoy.(1)"

"Thank you sir," Harry said, as politely as he could manage. He was getting used to Snape by now, and the man was paying him a rather back-handed compliment. He then added, "I hope Malfoy will do his best at Quidditch. Because I want a good challenge."

Snape smirked. "Be careful what you wish for, Gainsborough. You may receive exactly that." And with that, he swept off, his robes billowing behind him. The guy was a prick, Harry thought to himself, but he had style.

"Slimy git," Ron muttered to himself.

"Ron, language!" Hermione hissed. "And he is a teacher!"

"It's okay," Harry said quietly. Snape's attitude was still snide and acidic. It got worse when Harry made mistakes in class (though not as often as poor Neville, whose apparent ineptitude in magic got worse in Potions). But Harry accepted it and moved on. He knew of Snape's promise, and the man at least took points off Harry when he made mistakes he could have spotted. It still stung, though. The man still showed blatant favouritism to Slytherin, and particularly Malfoy.

Harry did have some interest sparked by Snape, though. He asked Professor Sprout about the language of flowers, remembering Snape's message to him in the first Potions class. He was told there were a few books on the subject in the library. He had fun making little coded messages based on what he had read. He might even suggest having AVALANCHE and the Turks read up on any floriography texts that existed back home.

And Potions, for all the fact that Snape's teaching methods left a lot to be desired, were fascinating. Snape's words from the first lesson came to mind. _I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death_ …

In terms of the actual subject matter, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts were his favourite subjects. Unfortunately, Snape taught the former, and Quirrell taught the latter. Thankfully, Jenova helped do what Quirrell seemed unable (or unwilling? Harry remembered the outburst where Quirrell didn't stutter) to do, and Snape was tolerable. In terms of the teachers involved, though, Transfiguration and Charms won out. In fact, Harry loved Charms most of all, as Flitwick was perhaps the most entertaining of the professors, and did so without compromising his curriculum. McGonagall was a good teacher, but she was also no-nonsense, strict (understandably, given the Transfiguration horror stories he heard whispers of), and stern.

History was tiresome. Astronomy was tiring, despite Professor Sinistra's teaching methods (Harry was interested to learn that she was in Slytherin, as she was probably the nicest Slytherin he had encountered thus far). Herbology was interesting, but Harry had gone off plants and gardens, thanks to the Dursleys, though Neville's discussion of magical plants was interesting.

Even now, he was already considering his future efforts in Hogwarts. Come the third year, he would be choosing electives. And as much as he was tempted by easy options, he wasn't sure that some would take his fancy. Muggle Studies, for example. Having grown up in the Muggle world (or the mundane world, as he preferred), he probably knew more than many pureblooded wizards. In fact, Ron's father worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, and even he made more than a few blatant mistakes. He'd spent time questioning Aerith and Jenova on the purpose of a rubber duck. Aerith had told Harry that, if Arthur Weasley ever got the time to go to the Planet, she would make sure to send Arthur Cid's way. Assuming the foul-mouthed pilot didn't lose his temper, he'd probably teach the wizard a lot. In fact, given that Arthur liked to tinker with machinery, they'd probably get along well enough.

Divination was also out, albeit for different reasons. Harry had made discreet enquiries with McGonagall, and was told that while it was considered a soft option, people with the actual gift were rare. Of course, even if you didn't have the gift, you could look for various signs that did foretell the future, but actual seers were rare.

Harry wasn't sure whether Arithmancy was his thing. Learning how to create spells through mathematics sounded great, but Harry's abilities at maths, while certainly far better than his grades at primary school suggested (thanks to the Dursleys), wasn't that great. That being said, Ancient Runes was another matter. You could do a lot of things with Runes. Maybe he could discuss it with Sirius and Remus, find out from their own personal experiences.

Hermione was also thinking ahead, though Ron wasn't. Harry liked Ron, but he was somewhat lazy. Harry also pointed out that he wasn't committing to the courses he wanted to learn. He was just speculating.

"You nervous?" Ron asked, although it was obvious.

"Such remarkable powers of observation, Mr Weasley," Harry said, in an imitation of Snape's nasal sardonic drawl. Ron chuckled, and Hermione, despite herself, smiled. Thankfully, Snape had, by that time, made it to the High Table, and hadn't been within earshot. "But yeah," he said quietly. "Wouldn't you be?"

"I'd love to play a Quidditch game. Besides, Snape's right, as much as I hate to say it. After beating a troll, not to mention Sephiroth, this ought to be a cinch."

Harry shook his head. "Yeah, but I'm the Seeker. I'm the one who's supposed to end the game by catching the Snitch. I mean, it's like looking for a Soft in a Chocobo's nest."

"…You mean a needle in a haystack, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Same thing, really. A Soft is like an enchanted gold needle they use to cure petrification back home," Harry explained.

"And a Chocobo?" Hermione asked.

"Think a big, flightless bird you can ride like a horse," Harry said, laughing as her eyes went as wide as saucers. "Didn't you read about them in _Loveless?_ "

"I didn't know what they were!" Hermione protested, huffing as Harry laughed. As he continued with his breakfast, he began humming the Chocobo March from _Loveless_ (2).

* * *

If Snape had been a betting man, he would have won money on his prediction that Voldemort would try something during the Quidditch match. And the plan was so simple, so ingenious, Voldemort could scream for joy. If he was into such things. But the Dark Lord had more dignity than that, or so he deluded himself. After all, considering he was currently piggybacking on the back of the head of that imbecile Quirrell as a parasitic possession, well, there was precious little dignity in that.

Of course, had Potter a school broom and not that brand new Nimbus Two Thousand, it'd be easier to explain away. After all, old brooms could sometimes go so tragically wrong. Then again, so could new brooms. If Voldemort had been familiar with Muggle computers (or at least more than knowing the basics before dismissing them with a contemptuous sneer: he may sneer at the Muggle world, but he was far from ignorant, unlike many of his followers), he would have used the analogy of working out the bugs.

New, untested brooms did have problems occasionally. It was a fact of wizarding life that wasn't acknowledged, but still known. And accidents did happen. Oh, no doubt Snape and Dumbledore would suspect him. And perhaps the boy's odious associates, the mysterious Professor Calamitas and Miss Gainsborough, would as well.

Voldemort had wondered about those two. Aerith Gainsborough reminded him a little of Lily Potter, all sweetness and light, but with an inner fire that was admirable, though annoying in a do-gooder. Jen Calamitas was another matter. She was like his trusted lieutenant and occasional lover(3), Bellatrix Lestrange, albeit less deranged. You could smell the danger and power from her a mile off. Plus, she was flamboyant. But Voldemort also knew that Calamitas was firmly on Potter's side.

There was another thing Voldemort was wondering about. For the past little while, he had felt…different. Less attached to the world. It was worrisome, and he suspected he knew why: his horcruxes were in danger. He didn't know how many had been found or destroyed. All that he knew that someone, probably that accursed old bastard Dumbledore, had begun to track them down and destroy them. Voldemort had confirmed that the Diadem was no longer a horcrux: he had gone to the Room of Requirement, only to find that it was no longer there.

Unfortunately, he couldn't risk leaving Hogwarts to check on the rest: Quirrell's absence would be noted. However, Voldemort could take some comfort in that he knew that some of his horcruxes still existed. He'd know it if the horcruxes had all ceased to be. And once he had the Philosopher's Stone, the horcruxes would be a moot point. They'd be a handy safety measure, but his immortality was assured once he had the Stone, and with it, the Elixir of Life.

Voldemort, through Quirrell's eyes, watched as the match began. He had to admit, Harry Potter was an excellent flier, like his father. He didn't look that much like his father, though: no glasses. Voldemort speculated that either the boy didn't inherit the bad eyesight of his sire, or else wore contact lenses. It was only a minor speculation, however. The boy would die today, or else be injured and humiliated in front of the school.

He would wait until the match reached the right point before he started to interfere. Even as he did so, he had to confess to actually enjoying the game. Slytherin used fouls to its advantage, and the coward Malfoy's son was a decent Seeker, though Potter was better. Then again, the Seeker's position had a lot of luck involved: the Snitch flitted about the pitch randomly. If only that annoying Gryffindor commentator would shut the hell up!

Voldemort saw his chance after Potter had suffered a collision with the Slytherin team's captain, Flynt. Quietly, he had Quirrell murmur a special curse. Potter's broom bucked and thrashed like an ornery horse. But it wasn't doing what it should have. Someone was using an improvised counter-curse! And Quirrell couldn't see who it was, as he had to maintain eye contact.

It was a moot point, though. The broom's movements were enough to potentially shake Potter off. And Hogwarts would witness, at the very least, the injury and humiliation of Harry Potter.

* * *

Hermione scanned the crowd when Hagrid mentioned that only Dark Magic could affect Harry's broom like that. And with the binoculars she was given by the gigantic man, she soon found the culprit. "Snape!" she hissed.

"No," Aerith said, having a pair of binoculars of her own. She had been sitting with Gryffindor (though she hadn't actually been Sorted) to support Harry. And she was frightened for Harry, and realising with a sick chill of horror that Snape's prediction proved to be correct. "A little to the left, Hermione."

Hermione frowned when she saw that _Quirrell_ , of all people, was matching Snape, muttering under his breath. "Are you sure he isn't using the counter-curse?"

"Hermione, Snape may not like Harry, but he is sworn to protect Harry's life. It's a long story."

"Well, I'm going to stop it, regardless!" And with that, Hermione scurried off, despite Aerith's protests.

* * *

Jenova was ahead of Hermione in that regard. She was in the teachers' stand, and it didn't take her long to figure out who was causing it. She took a moment to decide what to do about it, before deciding to take on the role of concerned and panicking pseudo-maternal figure. She had her wand out, running her hands through her hair. She only needed to overplay her concern, anyway. For all her haughty attitude and disdain towards many people, Jenova had come to have a soft spot for Harry.

She got to her feet, her wand in hand, and began scurrying back and forth along the teacher's stands, muttering to herself that she had to get a Levitation Charm on him if he fell. She began to dither in front of Quirrell, knowing that she was interrupting his line of sight. Then, suddenly, she was falling. Quirrell must've stuck out his foot! Dammit, how humiliating! Jenova, Calamity from the Skies, tripped up by the lackey of a would-be Dark Lord!

A cry went up when Harry, who had been hanging onto the broom by just one hand, began to lose his grip. And then, Malfoy, who was trying to outrun a Bludger, saw Harry, and got a cunning grin on his face. He sped for Harry, and expertly weaved around him. The Bludger smacked into Harry, and with a pained cry, he began falling.

* * *

Harry thought, in that moment, he was either going to die, or else hit the ground hard enough to break a lot of bones. He had been asked to leave his Materia in safe-keeping with Aerith, as players weren't allowed to use wands, and the Materia counted as a kind of magical focus. Cold comfort, considering that he now needed Phoenix, if he did have a fatal injury.

 _No_ , he thought. _I WON'T die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! HELP!_

And suddenly, he got it. He felt _something_ sprout from his back. His vision became sharper, and strangely coloured, like he could _see_ magic.

Instinctively, he landed slowly, even gracefully, on his own two feet. He heard, distantly, Oliver Wood calling for a time out. And he saw the astonishment on people's faces, even from a distance.

 _Harry_ …came the voice of Jenova, _you_ _ **do**_ _know that you've made something of a spectacle of yourself_.

 _What do you mean?_ he asked over their mental link.

 _See for yourself_ , she said, before he could see through her eyes. And he stared at the image of himself. Silver hair. Green, slit-pupilled eyes. And a large, grey wing protruding from his back.

 _Like I said, Harry_ , Jenova said solemnly, _you've made a spectacle of yourself. This is my mark. A gift and curse bestowed by my cells. Oh dear, your infamy's going to skyrocket, you know that?_

 **CHAPTER 16 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Originally, this chapter was titled** ** _Voldemort Makes His Move_** **, but I decided** ** _The Mark of Jenova_** **would be more interesting. I very nearly called it** ** _One-Winged Angel_** **, but I'd already used that for** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **. Plus, it might have given people the idea that Sephiroth would appear.**

 **By the way, Hermione did manage to set Quirrell's robes on fire, but she was too late. So in case you're wondering why she didn't manage to do anything, well, there you have it.**

 **1\. I liked this little scene in the film, where Snape gives Harry what seems a bit like a backhanded compliment. So, given how Snape is developing in this story, I thought I would put a modified version of it here, instead of Snape taking points off Harry for bringing a library book outdoors. Snape in my story is by no means a nice guy, but he's certainly becoming nicer than in canon.**

 **2\. Yes, this is the actual Chocobo theme.**

 **3\. I'm sure it's a hotly-debated topic in fandom whether Voldemort and Bellatrix had sex. I personally think that, at least for this story, they did (try getting THAT mental image out of your head. :P). That being said, Voldemort doesn't actually** ** _love_** **Bellatrix. He's incapable of it. But he is attracted to her, and Bellatrix is attracted to him (there IS a difference between lust and love, and she's attracted to his power rather than his post-horcrux looks), and I'm sure Bellatrix's husband would be honoured that his wife was the concubine of the Dark Lord. Not like he'd object, anyway, or else he'd get an** ** _Avada Kedavra_** **to the face.**

 **CHAPTER 16 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Quidditch Match** **:** ** _Zidane's Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**

 **Harry's in Trouble!** **:** ** _Silver Dragons_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy IX_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu**

 **Harry's Wing** **:** ** _Seymour's Theme_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy X_** **HD, composed by Nobuo Uematsu, and arranged by Junya Nakano.**


	18. Chapter 17: Consequences and Secrets

**CHAPTER 17:**

 **CONSEQUENCES AND SECRETS**

It was after the match, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville were in Hagrid's hut, having a nice cup of tea. Harry managed to reverse his transformation, and was told by Hooch that if he used it to his advantage in anything but surviving a fall, it would count as a foul. As it turned out, Harry did manage to get the Snitch, much to Malfoy's annoyance. But now, the four Gryffindor students, plus Hagrid, were debating what happened.

"I still reckon Snape was the one doing the curse," Ron muttered darkly, scowling. "I mean, can you see Quirrell doing anything nasty? He had nasty things done to him."

"Ron…" Harry said, "All I will say on the matter is that I know Snape would rather save my life. Besides, he's a Potions master, right? If he really wanted me dead, there's all sorts of untraceable stuff he could slip in my food in the Great Hall." He was a bit torn on whether to discuss Snape's vow to protect Harry, or the debts the Potions Master owed his birth parents, but decided not to. Snape was a private person.

Ron shrugged. Harry's logic was decent enough. "I'm just saying, why would Quirrell do such a thing?"

"I dunno. I saw the way he looked at my Materia," Harry said quietly.

"Well, I agree with Harry and Hermione," Hagrid said. "Snape has Dumbledore's complete trust! So he has mine. As fer Quirrell, well…" Hagrid looked pensive. "He's changed since that whole sabbatical thing he went on. I dunno. Still, if he were the one doin' the cursin'…" Hagrid shook his shaggy head. He then peered at Harry. "By the way, Harry, I wanted ter ask you, what happened out there? Why did you grow a wing and get silver hair?"

Harry looked at those gathered, before he said, "Special transfiguration. Jenova taught it to me." He trusted his friends, true, but Hagrid might be another matter. "It was caused by some accidental magic from the stress of the fall." This was what Jenova coached him to say after the event.

He tried to look for a means to change the subject, and thought of one quickly, remembering something Cait Sith told him. "Hey, by the way, Hagrid, I heard from Cait Sith there's a Cerberus in the castle."

"What? That toy cat told you about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?!" Harry and his friends chorused in disbelief.

"Yeah, that's right. Bought him off a Greek chappie at the pub last year. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard the…" Hagrid scowled. "Never mind that. That's top secret, that is."

"Was that to do with that Gringotts thing? The thing that nearly got stolen?" Harry asked.

"Listen to me, you lot. Yer meddlin' in things that don't concern yer. It's dangerous."

"So's my life, it seems," Harry remarked archly, referring to the Quidditch match.

"But this is even more so. You forget the dog, forget what it's guardin', because that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

In the silence that followed, Hagrid winced, annoyed at letting things slip.

* * *

As they returned to the castle, they were intercepted by Jenova. "You four, with me. Now," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

They dutifully followed her into an empty classroom, and she had them sit down. Standing, she looked at them all. "Okay, now, officially, what Harry did was some Transfiguration that I taught him. The silver hair and his eyes changing were a side effect, though I doubt you noticed the eyes."

"What about them?" Ron asked.

Jenova gestured to Harry, who stood, and walked over next to her. "Try and do it again, Harry," she said quietly.

Harry shot her a questioning look, before trying to think of what it had felt like. Almost involuntarily, he felt the wing form. And when he opened his eyes again…the others gasped.

"They're like cat's eyes," Hermione murmured.

Jenova nodded, before relaxing her own transformation, her skin turning blue, her hair turning silver, her eyes turning orange and glowing, and two wings spreading from her own back. "The mark of Jenova. Ron knows something of my past, and how I came to be involved with Harry. This is not to leave this room. Out of the staff, only Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape know it. Harry didn't learn his transformation from me. He acquired it from me."

"Acquired?" Neville asked as Harry reverted back to normal, and sat down.

"Yes. Hermione would probably understand it best. I am an alien being, even to Gaia, the Planet where Harry lived."

"An alien?" Hermione breathed. "But…"

"I know you have many questions. Save them for later, I might consider answering any you have left after this," Jenova interjected.

"What's an alien?" Neville asked.

"As I explained to Ron, I am a being that didn't come from your world, or from the Planet. I came from a world far, far into the stars." Jenova crossed her arms. "Did you ever learn of the legends of the Cetra Heritage, Neville?"

"No. Why?"

Jenova sighed, pursing her lips, before saying, "Many of the ancestors of your people actually came from the Planet. The Cetra who fled to this world were fleeing a powerful monster, a Calamity from the Skies, which, in the tongue of the Cetra, was called Jeh-Nohva. Jen Calamitas is my assumed name. The name I normally go by is Jenova, though I don't remember my original, true name. That's a long story, and I have a lot to tell. I was sealed by the Cetra because, frankly, I was a monster who would have made Voldemort look like an infant."

"How is that possible?" Neville asked. "You can't be worse than You-Know-Who, you're…too _nice_."

Jenova smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment. But…I am different now than what I used to be. In a way, it was Harry who changed me, though it was many things that changed me. However, after we first met, he was infected with cells from me. I was trying to survive and conceal myself, you see."

"So, you're like a sentient disease?" Hermione asked.

"Rather unflattering way to put it, but yes. Of course, Jenova cells have varying effects." She went over to a blackboard, and drew a crude pyramid, which she separated into sections. At the bottom, she put 'NORMAL'. Above it, she put 'SOLDIER'. Above that, she put 'SEPHIROTH CLONE'. Above that, she put 'PROJECT G'. Above that, she put 'SEPHIROTH'. And finally, above that, she put down 'JENOVA'. "Okay, lecture time. You'll love this, Hermione. At the bottom, we have normal people, who have no or little infection with my cells. Then, you have members of SOLDIER, a sort of elite military unit Shinra had. They were infused with my cells, along with Mako Energy, a concentrated life-force. Above SOLDIER, you have 'Sephiroth clones', which aren't actually clones, but rather, unfortunates put through a similar process to members of SOLDIER, but with a higher concentration of Jenova cells, to try and create another Sephiroth. Above those, you have Project G, a project that created supersoldiers, including Genesis Rhapsodos, and Angeal Hewley. That _Loveless_ play was Genesis' favourite, Hermione. The problem with those created by Project G is that their bodies began to degenerate."

Harry felt a little thrill of fear. "Will that happen to me?"

"I don't think so. You're somewhere here," Jenova said, tapping between 'PROJECT G' and 'SEPHIROTH'. "Your body is heavily hybridised, but it's stable, in that your body is not rejecting my cells, nor do they show any inclination to. That being said, I'm pretty sure that the amount of Jenova cells in your body is increasing, gradually replacing your normal cells. A few months ago, you wouldn't have been able to pull off a transformation like that." Jenova sighed in irritation. "Of course, this is only going to make you even more infamous."

"Snape'd love that," Harry muttered. "But you said that the cells in my body are being replaced. What will happen to me?"

"Physically? You'll get stronger, faster, more powerful. Mentally? Well, I'm almost certain you'll be fine. You've met Genesis in the Lifestream, remember? After Minerva purged the corruption from his body and soul, he's recovered his sanity. And Cloud, of course, is still sane, despite having a lot of Jenova cells in his body. Now, you three," she said, turning her attention to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "I know you're friends with Harry, or at least his best acquaintances. The reason why I have told you three is that so you will understand what is happening to him. Harry is no longer completely human, and I know that Magical Britain looks down upon half-breeds and 'dark creatures'. But remember, Harry has a moral centre far stronger than I ever remember having myself. He is not the next coming of Voldemort, or Sephiroth."

"Never thought he was," Ron remarked. And the other two agreed.

* * *

As Harry, Ron and Neville went back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione, predictably, stayed behind to question Jenova. "You said you were an alien," Hermione said. "Do you remember your own homeworld?"

Jenova shook her head. "I have scraps of memory, that's all. I do remember enough now. During my adventures with Harry, we were attacked by a powerful monster called Ultima Weapon. It was like the immune system for the Planet, trying to kill me. Harry, Aerith, myself, along with some others, fell into the Lifestream."

"That's that subterranean life-force region you and Aerith told me about," Hermione said, frowning.

"Yes. It's filled with Mako Energy, concentrated life-force. To be immersed in it is dangerous, as your mind would be flooded with the memories of people who have died and returned to it. Mako Energy, once crystallised, can become Materia. When we fell into the Lifestream, we experienced our worst memories. One of them, I didn't even remember until I saw it. You see, I wasn't just an alien. The Planet has a sort of overarching consciousness, a goddess or a deity if you will, named Minerva."

"After the Roman goddess of war and wisdom?" Hermione asked.

Jenova shrugged. "Anyway, I learned, to my shock, that once, I was like Minerva, the consciousness of another world. But disaster struck my world, and I was forced to gather the last specks of life from my world, and set off to colonise another one. But when I arrived, I was driven mad by isolation of millennia. In addition, the Planet already had life. But I was determined that the life I had carried with me would continue. So I began infecting the life nearby. I acted as a monster. The Cetra, a magic-using group of humans on that world, called me the Calamity from the Skies, as I had arrived in a meteorite."

"Panspermia(1)," Hermione murmured in realisation.

"Indeed," Jenova nodded. "My cells have special properties. I mentioned Hojo in my first lesson, didn't I?"

Hermione nodded. "Aerith said he was a scientist, and an evil one at that."

"That he was. That monster I showed was actually what he transformed into after a lifetime of experimenting on his own body with my cells. Anyway, he had a theory, which was true, that if my physical form was dismembered, the disparate parts would be drawn together. That's part of the reason he created the so-called 'Sephiroth clones': he wanted to test his theory, called the Reunion Theory. So a dominant Jenova creature will be able to call its disparate parts back together. In addition, it can divide its consciousness between multiple bodies: I did it, and so too did Sephiroth. Even now, one of my bodies is back on the Planet. We are also capable of swift transfiguration, shape-shifting, if you will, and we cling tenaciously to life."

"But how exactly did Harry end up infected?"

Jenova chuckled ruefully. "At the time, I was but a small part of the Jenova overmind, with Sephiroth dominating most of it, and part of me that kowtowed to him making up most of the rest. He placed my rebellious consciousness within a mass of Jenova cells that got shaped into a monster. I was swiftly vanquished by Harry and Aerith, along with three others, Cloud, Tifa, and Barrett. But in desperation, and in my dying moments, I transferred as many of my cells and my consciousness with them into Harry's body. I planned to stay in there until I could take him over, or at least influence his decisions, but they fought another Jenova creature and killed it. It had enough cells that I could actually form myself a new body, free from Sephiroth's control. But I left my cells in Harry, just in case. It seems that they saved his life today, or at least from injury."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I wish I'd gotten there sooner. I should have gotten Quirrell sooner."

Jenova walked over to the girl, and put a hand on her shoulders. "I was able to act sooner, but that stuttering bastard tripped me up. I tried to block his line of sight, albeit pretending it was an accident, but he worked it out too quickly. Hermione, that you took action as soon as you could was great. It speaks a lot about your character. Better than mine, anyway. It'll take a long time before I divest myself of my sins. Anyway, regarding Quirrell…well, I'm telling Harry by mental link, and he'll have to tell the other two, but try and treat him no differently as to how you did before. We think he might've been the one to release the troll on Halloween."

"But why hasn't he been arrested?"

"A number of reasons, many of which I am not at liberty to tell you, but I will tell you some. Firstly, there is no direct evidence. There's eyewitness testimony, sure, and the Magical World like eyewitnesses rather than forensics. But they'd want more proof. Secondly, if he's cornered…well, let's just say that Quirrell may have no compunctions about holding the students hostage to get his way. Or killing them. As long as he isn't feeling cornered, well…let me put it this way: Snape will be keeping a closer eye on Harry. And I will be keeping a closer eye on Quirrell. He'll get his, don't worry about that."

Hermione would have considered this an adult reassuring a child with hollow platitudes, except Jenova was grinning in a fashion a shark would have been proud of. Hermione, for a moment, felt sorry for Quirrell, for all of a few seconds. Then, she remembered what the DADA teacher had tried to do, and stopped pitying him…

 **CHAPTER 17 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, several secrets are out, Jenova explains her history to the Golden Quartet, and Hagrid has a loose tongue.**

 **1\. Panspermia is the theory that life on Earth started elsewhere, and came here from a meteorite.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions this chapter. Sorry.**


	19. Chapter 18: The Trials of Peter

**CHAPTER 18:**

 **THE TRIALS OF PETER PETTIGREW AND SIRIUS BLACK**

Things were quiet at Hogwarts in one regard: Quirrell had decided to avoid antagonising Snape or Jenova, and, save for DADA classes, was keeping his distance from Harry. But in another regard, the halls were buzzing: the long-awaited trials of Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black were about to begin.

Harry received special dispensation from Dumbledore to attend, and his friends were allowed to come too. Lupin was also present, having come to give Sirius moral support…and Pettigrew the evil eye. Aerith and Jenova also went.

The Wizengamot had many functions. Though primarily a sort of parliament for Magical Britain, it was also a high court. Hence why it was the site for the trials: the Ministry had to be shown as doing something to clean up after its mistakes.

In the public gallery, Lupin (only Harry understood the glare Lupin got as the werewolf was reluctantly allowed entry) pointed out wizards and witches of interest. There were the stern features of Amelia Bones, the formidable head of the DMLE. There was the cool, elegant appearance of Lucius Malfoy. Harry noted that the man carried himself with far more confidence than his son. He knew the man was a former Death Eater, and a canny political manipulator: Aerith had told him some of her conversation with Snape. Then, there was the plump, bowler-hatted figure of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He seemed paradoxically both nervous and confident.

Then, there was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Harry heard the venom in Lupin's voice when he pointed her out. Dolores Umbridge, a toad of a woman in a pink dress that seared at the retinas. "She's very disdainful of anyone she considers not human, or not fully human," Remus confided.

"Sounds like she and I would get on like a house on fire," Jenova remarked with her shark-like grin on her face. "With me being the fire, of course."

The good humour didn't last, though. A chill came over the courtroom as a pair of… _things_ entered. Things that were vaguely humanoid, dressed in filthy rags that seemed to be almost as part of the things as the scabrous flesh covering their skeletal arms. Phantoms and revenants made flesh, gliding with a malevolent grace.

"Dementors," Lupin hissed.

Harry was reminded, without bidding, of the time on the Great Glacier, when he had first learned of his infection with Jenova cells, when he had felt perhaps the greatest despair in his life. The cold sensation on his skin, the cold sensation in his heart. He was being paranoid at the time, thinking he was a monster (though given what Jenova had told him before, he was now becoming one, physically, something that he didn't want to think about), but these _things_ made it all come back.

Sirius had told him all about the Dementors, of course, of the horror stories of Azkaban. But to experience their presence was another matter entirely.

Jenova was staring at the creatures with an expression of profound shock and horror. _Those creatures…_ he heard her whisper through their mental link.

As if they had heard her mental whisper, the Dementors' hidden faces suddenly snapped to scrutinise Jenova and Harry. And then, a single word hissed into their minds, intended for Jenova, but Harry heard it too. It was a single word, composed of two syllables, spoken in a pair of voices that sounded like a winter wind, cold and terrible, carrying nothing but death in its wake.

 _Mother_ …

And that's when things went wrong.

* * *

The last time Harry and Jenova felt their lives flash before their eyes, they had been immersed in the Lifestream. Needless to say, it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, especially as the emphasis of their recollections seemed to be on their worst memories.

This time, it was far worse. With the attention of the Dementors on them, they felt these horrid memories with feelings increased a thousandfold. Jenova, with her experience and innate ability, managed to weather it, but Harry's eyes began to roll up in their sockets.

He heard his parents die (his mother screaming for Voldemort to show his non-existent mercy) once more, and Voldemort sneering at them, before trying to kill him. He remembered the neglect of the Dursleys. The horrific battle against Jenova, and her infecting him. Learning about his infection, and his near-death experience on the Great Glacier. The Snow-Woman's death. Cloud turning on them. Ultima Weapon attacking Mideel, and their nightmarish immersion in the Lifestream. Their fights against Scarlet, Hojo, Diamond Weapon…and Sephiroth.

And then, green, slit-pupilled eyes opening within a swirling green darkness. _I told you, Harry, I will_ _ **never**_ _remain a memory_ …

* * *

When Harry came back to his senses, he was outside the Wizengamot chambers once more. He felt his stomach heave. Thankfully, Lupin transfigured a nearby pot plant into a bucket, which Harry emptied his stomach into.

Jenova and Harry's friends had accompanied him outside. All of them looked shaken by the Dementor's presence, and their effect on Harry.

"Where's Aerith?" Harry asked.

"Talking to Dumbledore. Once she was sure you were fine, she went to find him," Lupin said. Harry was bemused to find a piece of chocolate thrust into his hands by Lupin, who also gave pieces to Jenova and the other three children. "I'm a bit of a chocoholic," Lupin confessed, "but it's also an excellent remedy against the Dementor's presence."

Harry was a bit sceptical, but he took a bite anyway. The worst of the effects of the Dementor's presence surprisingly went away rather swiftly.

"So those were Dementors," Jenova remarked, though her composure was rather shaky, despite her attempt at a casual attitude. Once, back on the Planet, she had remarked to Sirius (when he first told her about Dementors and Azkaban) that she considered strongly eating one. The remark was meant in slight jest. But now that she had encountered them…

Her fist clenched involuntarily. She was Jenova, the Calamity from the Skies, a monster that had managed to beat Sephiroth…and yet, more of her children had just managed to affect her deeply. And not just her: Harry too. In fact, she was willing to bet that the Jenova cells in his body made the effect of the Dementors even worse than they should have been.

So, the Dementors called her 'mother'. It seemed that Luna Lovegood and a few other wizards weren't the only legacy of her cells from the Cetra Exodus. These creatures must be misshapen Jenova creatures, perhaps even Jenova hybrids of humans that had fallen prey to corruption and degeneration.

A sudden thrill of horror ran through Jenova when she thought about it: she ate souls, and so too did the Dementors. But why had they attacked her mind and Harry's? She realised that part of the sensation when they attacked her mind was all too familiar: it was the call of Reunion. Only, they were trying to be the focus of the Reunion, when it should have been _her_. They were trying to draw her to them. And Harry as well. And the worst thing about it was that they were little more than beasts.

It was all she could do not to march right in there and incinerate those abominations. Of course, causing a scene would disrupt the trial. Well, more of a scene already than having their saviour faint from being in the same chamber as a pair of Dementors.

She opened the mental link to Harry. _Are you feeling better?_

 _A little. Jenova, those things called you mother. Are they Jenova creatures?_

 _I don't know. They stink of my cells. I think they're either monsters formed from my cells, or else wizards corrupted by my cells. I don't know which. Either way, for what they did to you, I want to destroy them_.

"I can see why Azkaban is so horrible," Harry muttered out loud.

"That's not a normal response to Dementors, Harry," Lupin said quietly. "But even so, it's not unheard of. They suck the good feelings out of anyone nearby, the heat from the air, and bring the worst memories to the surface. They also suppress magic usage with prolonged exposure, hence why they're used as guards at Azkaban. A mistake if you ask me."

"You got that right," came a cheerfully sardonic voice. "And yet, I'm probably going to have to pull guard duty at Azkaban as part of my training. Great, huh?"

Harry looked up to find a rather extraordinary pair of people standing nearby. One was a girl in her late teens, probably barely out of Hogwarts, with rather punk-like clothing and spiky pink hair. The other was a scarred, grizzled lump of a man who looked like he had been put back together after a major accident. A magical false eye whirled and spun in his left socket.

"Ah, Mr Moody," Jenova said, giving a polite nod. "And you are?" she asked the teenaged girl.

"Tonks. Just Tonks," the girl replied.

"I've never heard of 'Just' as a first name," Jenova remarked. "Is it short for Justine?"

To Harry's astonishment, Tonks' hair turned red as she scowled. Moody put a calming hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't let her rile you, Tonks. She's a dangerous one."

"And don't you forget it," Jenova said with a smile that was both charming and predatorial.

Moody glared at Jenova, before saying, "If I didn't know better, and I do, I'd say you were a Malfoy."

"You wound me, Mr Moody," Jenova said, still smiling. "Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione, this charming gentleman who looks like a dragon's leftovers sewn back together is Alastor Moody, a top Auror."

"Mad-Eye Moody?" Neville all but gasped, his eyes wide. They grew even wider when he realised he may just have committed a major _faux pas_. After all, it wasn't a particularly flattering _nom de guerre_ that Moody had.

Moody, thankfully, just chuckled. "What am I, a boogyman?"

Tonks smirked. "Well, to little trainees like me, you are. Chucking curses at us when we least expect them…"

"Nymphadora, I need to teach you CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Tonks flinched, before snapping, "Don't call me Nymphadora!"

"Nymphadora, huh?" Jenova mused, still smiling her predatory smile. "Nice name. Doesn't it meant 'gift of the Nymphs'?(1)"

Tonks scowled at Jenova. "How would you like it if you were given a name you didn't like?"

"I was, and I didn't. I just embrace it," Jenova said coolly. After all, Jenova meant 'Calamity from the Skies'. Not that she was going to say that out loud.

While Tonks fumed, Aerith came back. "Dumbledore's making arrangements to watch the proceedings outside the chambers. He and Fudge are up in arms that the Dementors caused such an effect on Harry." She saw Moody. "Oh, hello, Mr Moody. What are you doing here?"

"We were doing escort duty on Black, but Amelia sent us here to check on Harry," Moody said. "Tonks, this is Aerith Gainsborough, Harry's adoptive sister. This is Professor Jen Calamitas."

"And these are Harry's friends," Aerith said. "Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger."

Moody nodded, while Tonks grinned, and said, "Wotcher!"

* * *

They soon made their way to a chamber, where they watched the proceedings unfold in a crystal globe(2). Pettigrew, currently under the influence of a spell that prevented him from changing into a rat, was now answering questions while under the influence of Veritaserum.

The Wizengamot, as well as Harry and the group with him, listened as Pettigrew, in a dull tone, listed his crimes, and then admitted to being the Secret Keeper, as well as the Potters' betrayer. Moody pointed out that Lucius Malfoy was listening intently: clearly, he didn't know who the betrayer of the Potters was, and he showed nothing but contempt for Pettigrew. It was probably the only opinion that Harry would share with the man.

"How I'd like to get that man talking with Veritaserum," Moody growled when looking at Lucius Malfoy. "Imperius curse my foot."

"Which one?" Jenova snarked. "The real one or the prosthetic?"

The debate that followed within the Wizengamot, after Pettigrew detailed how Halloween 1981, and his escape from Sirius, was fairly brief. In fact, there were two things concerning the Wizengamot: how did Pettigrew get exposed in the first place, and what sentence to give him?

The former was addressed by Amelia Bones herself, who stated that she was notified by an anonymous tip that turned out to be from Black himself, who knew of Pettigrew's Animagus form. Black was in Britain once more trying to clear his name, and heard of Scabbers through Harry, who had been told about the incidents.

The latter was decided on, though Dumbledore was one of those opposed. He wanted a life sentence in Azkaban, with no possibility of release. Most of the rest of the Wizengamot wanted a summary execution: the Dementor's Kiss. Harry wasn't sure what was worse.

Pettigrew's execution was delayed while Sirius was brought in. The Dementors very nearly went for him, but were halted by Umbridge. She didn't look like she enjoyed preventing the Dementors from attacking Sirius, though.

"They were angry at him escaping Azkaban," Moody noted. "Dementors don't like being thwarted or outwitted."

"In other words, sore losers," Jenova muttered. _Just like many of my children_ , she added mentally to herself.

"Aye, well, if Sirius was really the traitor, Potter would be in trouble," Moody said.

"Gainsborough," Aerith corrected Moody. "My mother adopted him."

Tonks, meanwhile, was scowling at the globe's image. "Merlin, all this time, and he was innocent. Mum's right embarrassed, I tell you. Thought her cousin was like the rest of that damn family."

"Cousin?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. My mum was a Black, Andromeda."

"Sirius mentioned her," Aerith said. "He said that she got kicked out of the family for marrying a Muggleborn."

"And good riddance to them!" Tonks sneered, her hair turning red again. "But all this time, I hated him for turning on the Potters, and it turned out I should've hated that bloody rat!"

"We all made mistakes, Tonks," Moody said. "The question is, especially as you're training to be an Auror, is what you do about them."

Jenova, frowning, asked Tonks, "By the way, your hair…are you a Metamorphagus?"

Tonks was surprised. "Well, yeah."

"A Meta-what?" Ron asked.

"A Metamorphagus is a wizard or witch capable of transforming their body without the use of spells or potions," Hermione said. "Really, Ron…"

"A Metamorphagus would be an ideal asset as an Auror," Moody said, "if she weren't so damned clumsy."

Tonks blushed, embarrassed. Jenova decided to defuse the situation. "Well, I want to ask you something, Tonks." Her skin turned blue, her hair silver, and her eyes orange, with slitted pupils. "Can you match this?"

Tonks' eyes went comically wide, and her hair went straight, standing on end as if she was Einstein, and going green(3). "Bloody hell! You're a Metamorphagus too?"

"Of a sort," Jenova said.

Tonks frowned, before her face shifted and warped to match Jenova's elegant, cruel features, with the skin, hair, and eye colour soon following. "God, I feel like my aunt now," Tonks remarked.

"Narcissa Malfoy would no doubt be pleased," Moody remarked, earning himself a glare from Tonks.

"Wait, she's your aunt?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. Narcissa Malfoy…and Bellatrix Lestrange," Tonks said, distaste and hatred oozing from her syllables as she changed back to her original look. She also didn't miss the look on Neville's face. "Yeah, that's right. They were originally Blacks before they got married. You wonder why the family has such a bad reputation? My mum and Sirius were the white sheep of the Black family."

They settled down and listened to the rest of the trial. Sirius had willingly testified under Veritaserum, and now, the Wizengamot was deciding his fate. He was an unregistered Animagus (this had to be revealed, given Peter revealing his own state), but it was decided to just fine him. And that fine would be a mere dent in a compensation package the Ministry was giving him. Hush money, Moody called it with a sneer.

"Look at Malfoy," Aerith murmured, as the image panned around the Wizengamot. The man looked like he was fuming in anger, albeit trying to keep a dignified air.

"Figures," Moody muttered. "Funnily enough, Sirius was never fully disowned, but his seat on the Wizengamot went to his nearest relative because he was in Azkaban. And the nearest relative who wasn't imprisoned or disowned was Narcissa Malfoy, his cousin. And thus, Malfoy not only controlled the Wizengamot vote that should've been Black's, but his son had a good claim to the Black family fortune. Not that he could object to this much more than he had, but even so, he's got reasons to be angry."

"I hope it hurts," Harry said quietly, but with a dark edge to his tone.

"It would," Moody said, "but wounded animals are the most dangerous, and Lucius Malfoy is a petulant bugger when he thinks he can get away with it."

"Like father, like son," Aerith remarked.

"Only the father has more acumen," Moody said. As Malfoy turned away and strode from the chamber, he said, "Mark my words, Harry may have been a target of Malfoy before, but he's painted a big ol' bullseye on him now. So, remember, _constant vigilance_."

It wasn't like Harry, Jenova, and Aerith needed the admonishment. They already knew Lucius Malfoy was one to watch. But now, they needed to make sure, more than ever, that he wasn't an issue…

 **CHAPTER 18 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Pettigrew has been tried and convicted, Sirius has been exonerated, and we meet Tonks!**

 **Now, the thing about Dementors being Jenova creatures of a sort came to me while writing this chapter. It wasn't planned at all. I probably won't write a rationale in-story, so I might as well put it in here. JK Rowling said that Dementors grow, like fungi, in dark, damp, and desolate places. I'm expanding on that further: Jenova cells from infected wizards tend to congregate in those areas, and these creatures are basically Jenova monsters that are part-wizard and part-Jenova creature. Not all Jenova creatures on Earth are as foul as the Dementors, but they are probably the worst. And what's more, they may be a threat to both Jenova and Harry. Time will tell…**

 **1\. It does mean 'gift of the nymphs'. While it's a somewhat pretentious name, it's nowhere near as bad as how Tonks makes it out to be, IMO.**

 **2\. I made this up on the fly. I think there would be facilities for people otherwise unable to attend a Wizengamot hearing who nonetheless want to witness it (the Dementors causing some people to have an adverse reaction would be a good reason). Television is obviously right out, obviously. I don't think there'd be a facility for a witness to give 'video evidence' from outside the court, so to speak, like there would be in a normal court. And I'm rambling.**

 **3\. I based Tonk's hairstyle when she expresses surprise on a scene from** ** _The Accidental Animagus_** **by White Squirrel. I dunno whether this actually happens in canon, though (it's been so long since I've read** ** _The Order of the Phoenix_** **, and as I hate that particular instalment in the series, I don't intend to re-read it any time soon).**

 **CHAPTER 18 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Dementors** **:** ** _The Keller Machine Theme_** **, from** ** _Doctor Who: The Mind of Evil_** **, composed by Dudley Simpson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop. I like this theme, and given that the Keller Machine (or rather, the creature within it) sucks out people's minds and makes them experience their worst fears, I thought it appropriate for the Dementors.**


	20. Chapter 19: The Peverell Cloak

**CHAPTER 19:**

 **THE PEVERELL CLOAK**

The days since the trials of Black and Pettigrew went by swiftly, and soon, Christmas approached. Thankfully, the news of Black and Pettigrew overshadowed Harry's sprouting a wing during the Quidditch match. And Jenova had at least quashed most of the rumours by announcing it had been a Transfiguration ability she had taught him for emergencies.

Not that it stopped Malfoy from being a foul git. If losing to Harry at Quidditch wasn't bad enough, it was losing the prospect of inheriting the Black fortune, a fortune he believed his by right. Funnily enough, though, many in Slytherin were quietly impressed by Harry's performance…and the so-called Transfiguration ability, which Harry facetiously (to distance it from the memory of Sephiroth) dubbed 'One-Winged Angel(1)'.

Malfoy taunted Harry and Ron about them staying in the castle over Christmas, but Harry had a good retort: his sister was here, as was Jenova. Unfortunately, while Harry and Ron were helping Hagrid with a Christmas tree, Malfoy taunted Ron about his family's lack of money. Although they never came to blows, Snape had found them with Ron about to punch Malfoy out, and took off five points instantly, and warning it could have been more, despite Hagrid coming to their defence.

Harry was angry with Snape, but Malfoy deserved far more of his ire. Snape was at least following the rules, or at least bending them to his benefit. But Draco was just a bullying POS.

After witnessing the decorations being set up in the Great Hall, Harry and Ron met up with Hermione (who was leaving the next day to go home for the holidays) to continue researching Nicholas Flamel. They couldn't find him in a variety of magical books about modern wizardry, despite Hermione's skills at research.

After an hour or so of frustrated reading, Harry muttered, "This is getting us nowhere. We only know the name, but why is he important?"

"Because Quirrell is trying to steal…well, if that thing you saw in Gringotts was Flamel's, then Quirrell is trying to steal it," Hermione reasoned.

"So, whatever it is is valuable," Harry said. "But why try to kill me?"

"Maybe he's a follower of You-Know-Who," Ron said. "Trying to avenge his master, maybe."

Harry shrugged. It did make sense. And he knew that Voldemort wasn't actually dead…

…which might be the point. Voldemort, from what Dumbledore had told Harry, was now a sort of wraith, potentially capable of possessing people…like Quirrell. But he'd want an actual body, wouldn't he?

"Wait…" Harry murmured. "The thing Hagrid got out was valuable…but not in the way most people would think. It wasn't gold or silver or precious gems. It was pretty inconspicuous, wrapped up in a grubby little package. It was one thing. Maybe some sort of artifact. Maybe one that can bestow or extend life or something…"

"Extend or…" Hermione blinked. Then, her eyes widened. "Wait, wait a moment…" She left their table, and bustled back a few minutes later with a large, old tome in tow. "I've been thinking about getting this out some time ago for some light reading.(2)"

" _Light?_ " Ron asked incredulously.

"Hermione, that book looks like you could beat a Behemoth to death with it," Harry said.

"Shush," Hermione snapped, before beginning to flick through the book. "It's on the history of various arcane arts, including alchemy," she explained, as her eyes flickered over the index. "When you brought up that thing about extending life, I remembered something I saw once before while browsing another book." Then, her eyes widened, and she put the book down, and pointed at the page. "And here we are. Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry and Ron shared a look, before saying, together, "What?"

Hermione sighed a long-suffering sigh, and pointed out the relevant paragraph. Harry began to read, with growing excitement, that the Philosopher's Stone was a coveted substance that could turn any metal into gold, and produce the Elixir of Life, capable of bestowing immortality on the imbiber. And the only known possessor was Nicholas Flamel, who was said to be over six centuries old, along with his wife.

 _That's it_ , Harry thought to himself. _Voldemort wants the Philosopher's Stone_.

* * *

The three of them decided to keep quiet about it, at least to the other students, including Neville, who hadn't wanted to join the researches (he feared they might stir up trouble). Harry, however, eventually managed to speak to Aerith in private.

She smiled. "Well, I guess I should be proud that you and your friends figured it out. And I'm sure you understand the need for discretion?"

Harry nodded. "I understand. I haven't told them about Voldemort desiring it, though. I had to dance around that a bit. They're probably wondering why I suggested that whole thing about extending life anyway."

"Yes. Remember, it is being handled. Jenova is watching Quirrell, as is Snape, not to mention Dumbledore. And the Stone is safe. But be wary of Quirrell. Try not to let on anything. And if you see anything out of the ordinary, well, you have that mental link with Jenova, so let her know."

* * *

Christmas morning arrived. In the lead-up to Christmas, Harry had asked Sirius for advice for presents, as well as help getting them to Hogwarts, for which Sirius had to go back to the Planet. He decided to get a new owl for Ron (Sirius helped with the cost, considering that it was partly his fault that Ron lost Scabbers) and a Muggle book of pranks for the Twins. Hermione would have to wait until she got back for her present, which was an encyclopaedia for Materia, while Neville got a new set of care material for Trevor. Percy got a special magical organiser, and he seemed very thankful for it. He also sent to Ginny a Star Pendant, and Luna a book on the monsters of the Planet.

Harry decided to get some for the adults in his life. For Arthur, with Sirius' help, he got a Muggle general knowledge book, _How Is It Done?_ , published by Reader's Digest(3). Molly he sent a copy of the latest Gilderoy Lockhart book (she was enamoured with them, even though Harry was told by Luna that they were trash). Sirius, he sent a dog collar, with the medal embossed with 'Padfoot'. Lupin, he gave a voucher for robes at Madame Malkins'.

Hagrid, like Luna, got a book on the monsters of the Planet. McGonagall got a Transform Materia. Snape (to his eternal surprise, and not an unpleasant surprise either) got a book on the makings of various potions on the Planet. Dumbledore got a large box of sherbet lemons. Aerith and Jenova got books that Sirius had recommended: Aerith got _Pride and Prejudice_ , while Jenova got _The Tommyknockers_ by Stephen King(4).

He'd have to get presents for the others later, the ones still back on the Planet. He had also missed the birthdays of Cloud, Barrett, Yuffie and Vincent. He'd have to work on that. He had enough money in his vault at Gringotts to deal with that. And they had been so generous during his birthday earlier in the year.

On Christmas morning, Harry woke to find a small mountain of presents at the foot of the bed. Ron also had a pile at the foot of his bed too. They grinned, and then began going through their presents.

The first of Harry's was from Hagrid, a flute that the giant had apparently carved himself. Harry played on it experimentally, and managed to play (albeit somewhat badly) a few bars of the Victory Fanfare from _Loveless_.

The second was a surprise, what looked like a normal Muggle letter, albeit rather thick. It was from the Dursleys, or more specifically, his aunt. He opened it, and began to read.

 _Harry,_

 _Dumbledore has told me that you were found, and you have been adopted by another family. Not only that, but you will not be coming back to stay with us, as these so-called blood wards have fallen. I am sure that you would agree with me that this is desirable for all parties. I am also sure that you do not want to communicate with us again, especially now that you know the truth about your parents._

 _You may be asking why. I will be blunt. I was jealous that my sister got the attention, for being a witch. Even now, it's all I can do not to…I won't now, though. I know that you are angry for me lying to you. And I'm not sure I care. You belong with…your own kind. If you are happy with your new family, when I am sure that Lily would be happy._

 _However, I thought I would give you one last gift. I know I haven't given you many over the years, and I know this won't make up for other times. But I've decided to give you this, if nothing else._

 _Petunia Dursley_

Harry's scowl lessened when he saw the photo. It was old and faded, but was apparently of his mother and his aunt when they were children, along with a man and a woman that Harry thought must be his maternal grandparents. It looked like it was taken before Lily went to Hogwarts. Petunia actually looked happy, if a bit dour.

"Hey, the picture isn't moving," Ron said, peering at the photo.

"It's a Muggle photo, Ron. We do have TV and video, but photos that move…" Harry frowned, remembering little moving pictures in the toyshop back on the Planet. Lenticular prints, they were called(5). And there were those computer tablets that could display videos and animated images(6). "It's not very common, even back home."

A rather lumpy package turned out to be from Molly Weasley, of home-made items, namely a knitted jumper in emerald green and fudge. Ron had gotten a jumper himself. Hermione had sent them both a box of Chocolate Frogs. Lupin, Sirius and McGonagall had sent him a photo album with copies of photos of his parents and their friends(7). Snape had sent him a present as well, a copy of a photo of his mother and Snape as first years. Snape was a gawky, unattractive child, but he was smiling (genuinely) while Lily grinned. Harry smiled. He appreciated the sentiment, and knew he would thank the Potions teacher later. Aerith and Jenova's joint present was a book about the history and productions of _Loveless_.

It was the last present that was the most intriguing. When he opened it, silvery folds of some material spilled out. Ron was awed. "I've heard of those. If that's what I think it is, they're really rare, and _really_ valuable."

Harry, frowning, examined the strange material, before putting it on. Ron gasped, and Harry looked down. Wherever the material covered him, he had disappeared. He whirled to face a mirror, and found that only his head was visible.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," Ron murmured in awe. "Hey, there's a note that came with it."

Harry discarded the Cloak (noting how it became visible when he wasn't wearing it), and began reading it. It was written in narrow, loopy writing.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _When we first met for your birthday on Gaia, I gave you a copy of_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard, _telling you that you would understand why in time. I had always planned to give you this Invisibility Cloak on your first Christmas at Hogwarts. It is time it was given back to you._

 _Your father, you see, gave this into my possession not long before the Fidelius Charm was cast on Godric's Hollow. He and I both felt that the Fidelius Charm was the best defence (a mistake in retrospect), and that the Cloak would be better used for helping others get away from the Death Eaters. And he also knew I wished to analyse the Cloak. For I am certain that it is the Peverell Cloak, the Invisibility Cloak supposedly given by Death to the youngest Peverell brother in_ The Tale of the Three Brothers, _and thus one of the Deathly Hallows. I believe that you are not only ready for the responsibility of this cloak, but also for the knowledge of whence it came._

 _Use it well. And a Merry Christmas to you._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor Albus Dumbledore_

Ron's eyes were all but bulging out of their sockets. Then again, so was Harry's. "This is one of the Deathly Hallows?!" Harry hissed unbelievingly.

Ron walked over, and prodded the Cloak. "Actually, if that was your dad's, it might explain it. It looks good as new, but most cloaks fade after a while. They also tear easily. But this looks brand-new." Ron winced in mild jealousy. "You get the great family heirloom, don't you? I mean, one of the Hallows."

Harry looked at the Cloak pensively. "Maybe. But if my dad kept it, we might've been able to get away."

Ron winced again, this time in contrition. "Sorry, mate. But I got hand-me-downs, and a pet rat who turned out to be a Death Eater."

Harry smiled. "Well, I think that present from Sirius and me should help with that…"

* * *

At the Christmas dinner, the mood was quite merry, as it should be. Snape even had a smile, albeit a thin one. And Filch, who almost never smiled except when he was allowed to punish someone, was smiling merrily.

Aerith had made enquiries about the Squib, and had actually approached the embittered old man, who was sceptical that she could give him the ability to use magic. She debated whether to do it, before deciding to give Filch some Materia. A Bolt Materia, along with Seal and Restore Materia, with a basic bangle to set them into.

And thus, Hogwarts was treated to Filch running around in the snow, cackling like a child let loose in a candy store, calling down bolts of lightning from the sky to hit the ground. And Aerith's small but possible fears that the ability to do magic might go to Filch's head was thankfully unjustified. Filch was planning on using the Seal Materia on Peeves when the poltergeist got too rambunctious, but any fear that he would start using it on students was unfounded. Of course, Aerith had warned him when she gave him the Materia that if she did catch him doing so, she would do to him what she had once threatened to do to Don Corneo.

It was a very merry dinner. Harry got to experience magical crackers for the first time (loud explosions, big gifts, and all sorts of other things), he saw Dumbledore wearing a flowered bonnet and laughing at a joke Flitwick was telling him, and he saw an increasingly inebriated Hagrid kiss McGonagall on the cheek, who blushed furiously, while giggling.

It was the best Christmas he had ever had, though then again, considering what they had been like before at the Dursleys', it wasn't surprising. But he felt good about Christmas for the first time in a very long time.

 **CHAPTER 19 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Christmas comes to Hogwarts. And Harry, Ron, and Hermione have figured out about the Philosopher's Stone early.**

 **Now, regarding that particular plot point, I thought Harry would make the connection between the object and extending life first. He knows of the horcruxes, of Voldemort's obsession with immortality, and his current wraith-like state (he suspects, but doesn't know, that Voldemort is possessing Quirrell: for all he knows, Quirrell is just Voldemort's lackey, and not actually housing him). But he doesn't want to tell his friends in case it puts them in danger, hence why he says that thing about life-extension out of the blue, but doesn't elaborate. They also recognise how dangerous it could be for Quirrell to know about them knowing about the Stone.**

 **Regarding Petunia's letter: Petunia is probably the only member of the Dursleys (especially at this point at time) to give a crap about Harry. Not that she gives much of a crap: she's still an embittered and jealous bitch who emotionally abused her nephew. But here, we have the smallest of conciliatory gestures from her.**

 **Regarding Dumbledore's letter: it's longer (and not anonymous) than in canon for a number of reasons. Dumbledore recognises, partly because Harry knows about the horcruxes and partly because of his battles against Sephiroth, that Harry does deserve to know the true provenance of his Invisibility Cloak. Not only that, but I wanted to give a reasonable explanation as to why Dumbledore was given the Cloak, and why James Potter didn't keep it. I heard about the Cloak being used to help others escape from the Death Eaters as well as Dumbledore investigating it in fanfic (dunno whether it's canon), and as this isn't a Dumbledore-bashing story, I wanted to give benign reasons for him to have it.**

 **BTW, Pettigrew HAS been given the Dementor's Kiss. I'll discuss it further in a later chapter. Maybe even the next one.**

 **1\. Meant in jest, of course, but as readers will know,** ** _One-Winged Angel_** **is the theme given to Sephiroth.**

 **2\. In canon, the revelation about Flamel doesn't come until well after Christmas, so Hermione, at this point, was probably only considering taking the book out of the library.**

 **3\. This is an actual book that I have. It's outdated (it was published in 1990) and a little cheesy, but it'd be a perfect book for Arthur Weasley.**

 **4\. I chose** ** _Pride and Prejudice_** **for Aerith because she seemed like the type to read a good-quality romance novel. Choosing a book for Jenova was tougher, but I decided on** ** _The Tommyknockers_** **, given that it is Stephen King's take on the old BBC TV serial** ** _Quatermass and the Pit_** **(yes, my username comes from somewhere). Both stories are about ancient alien spaceships that are dug up, and begin influencing the townsfolk. I have read both books, incidentally. Yes, that's right, I HAVE read** ** _Pride and Prejudice_** **. It was okay, not my cup of tea, and I want to throttle Mrs Bennett. Though not as bad as I want to throttle another fictional character from another old book: namely Harold Skimpole from Charles Dickens' novel** ** _Bleak House_** **. He's like Lucius Malfoy if he acted a whole lot nicer and more stupid.**

 **5\. A lenticular print can either show a vaguely 3D image, or a basic animation, by viewing it from different angles. The effect is produced by an array of lenses, or rather, a sort of ridged lens over a prepared image or set of images.**

 **6\. I presume computer tablets are available on the Planet. I don't know whether any are seen in** ** _Crisis Core_** **.**

 **7\. It was Hagrid who gave Harry this photo album at the end of** ** _The Philosopher's Stone_** **. I decided in this story that it was the surviving Marauders, plus McGonagall (an old friend of the family) who got this collection together.**

 **CHAPTER 19 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Christmas Morning** **:** ** _Buried in the Snow_** **(FTG).**


	21. Chapter 20: The Mirror of Erised

**CHAPTER 20:**

 **THE MIRROR OF ERISED**

It wasn't until the next night that Harry began using the Invisibility Cloak. As the excitement of Christmas waned, he began to be plagued by thoughts he hadn't wanted to think about. Between Christmas and searching for the true nature of the object being guarded at Hogwarts, he hadn't thought about what he had seen back during the trials of Sirius and Pettigrew.

He had seen a man die. It wasn't like it was the first time, and while watching Pettigrew getting his soul sucked out by a Dementor was absolutely horrific, it still had to compete with, for example, the brutal end of Scarlet, machine-gunned into mincemeat by Barrett, as well as the first 'death' of Hojo, who had met a similar fate before mutating into a Jenova creature. And then, there was the Snow-Woman, and the Jenova creature that Jenova took over, and used as a meat shield during the fight with Sephiroth.

But he still felt repulsed by that hideous event. True, Pettigrew had betrayed his parents, and had done a few rather sickening things as a Death Eater (albeit coerced), but to see a man get his soul sucked out by a creature as hideous and repulsive as a Dementor…

Pettigrew, technically, was still alive. But he was just an inert, unresponsive lump of meat who would soon be allowed to starve to death. The soul, the things that made Pettigrew a person, was gone. Whether it had been utterly destroyed, or was now part of the Dementor, Harry didn't know. Nobody knew.

On Boxing Day, he had spoken to Dumbledore (in the man's office) about his feelings about the event. Dumbledore had nodded sagely. " _It is not a bad thing to feel disturbed by the death of another human being_ ," Dumbledore had said, " _even one such as Pettigrew. He was motivated by fear and uncertainty to join the Death Eaters. Many of the Death Eaters should be pitied. If nothing else, then for the fact that they follow the lead of a hypocrite, of one they would enslave or exterminate._ "

It was, incidentally, the first time Harry had been to Dumbledore's office, and the first time he had met Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix familiar. Harry nearly considered summoning Phoenix, but didn't know whether that would be a _faux pas_ with the magnificent magical bird.

Harry wandered, and found himself near the library. Tempted though he was to check out the Restricted Section, there was no need to. But an opened classroom door near the library's entrance caught his eye, and he wandered inside.

The classroom had been cleared away mostly, desks and chairs all piled up against the walls. Pride of place within the room, however, went to an ornate mirror. Carved along the top were eldritch words: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_. Gingerly, he removed the robe, and peered into the mirror, only to start, his eyes widening.

 _My parents…_ Harry thought. _And my ancestors…and Aerith, Elmyra, Jenova, Cloud, Tifa…everyone I met on the Planet_.

But there was more than that. There were his friends at Hogwarts too, standing by him, and even some of the teachers, including Snape. Even Luna was there, in her Jenova form. Harry was like Sephiroth, with silver hair and green slit-pupilled eyes, a single wing protruding from his back but unlike Sephiroth, no madness danced there in his eyes. Just a content calm, rather than the arrogant grace of Sephiroth. And everyone was accepting him for what he was.

What was this? His future? Or…

 _Erised_ …

Harry blinked, before looking up at the inscription. Something came together in his mind. "Erised…" he murmured quietly. "Desire…"

It was showing a _desire_.

Suddenly, with fresh eyes, he thought about the inscription. He reversed the letters. And then, he fiddled around with the spaces. "I…show not…your face…but your…heart's…desire."

"Indeed," came the familiar voice of Dumbledore. Harry whirled to find him sitting on one of the desks.

"Sir, I…"

"It's all right," Dumbledore said, holding up a placatory hand. "I was hoping you might find the Mirror. I have been keeping a watchful eye on it, to make sure nobody gets ensnared." He got off the desk, and walked over to Harry. "It's funny how being invisible can make one short-sighted."

"Or maybe you just used a Disillusionment Spell," Harry said. "Sirius taught me about that."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Perceptive, Harry. And you were to decipher the meaning of the Mirror in your one and only encounter with it." Dumbledore looked at the Mirror wistfully. "The happiest, most contented man in the world would see himself, and only himself in the mirror. But to anyone else, which is perhaps everyone in the world, they would see what they desire most. The deepest, most desperate desire of all. I saw what you saw in the Mirror: you see yourself surrounded by family and friends, both alive and dead, and accepting of the Jenova cells within you. I myself…well, to most people, I would just say I would be holding a pair of socks. After all, I never get any for Christmas, usually just books, though your gift of sherbet lemons was most welcome anyway. But...in truth, I see my sister, Ariana…and an old friend, turned bitter enemy. Grindlewald, the man I am lauded for fighting, used to be my best friend."

Harry remembered the name from his Chocolate Frog card. "It must've been a big falling-out, sir," Harry said tactfully.

"It was. Unfortunately, Ariana was caught in the crossfire, and to this day, I don't know who felled her." He tapped his crooked nose. "My brother gave me this at her funeral. And I richly deserved it, though that is a tale for another time, and I would appreciate you being quiet about it. Know this, Harry. The Mirror gives neither knowledge nor truth. Many have wasted away in front of it, gazing into its depths, or were driven mad, because they couldn't tell whether it was reality, or potential reality, or mere dreams. Sometimes, it was the final fantasy(1) for a person." He sighed, wearily, before turning to Harry. "It will be moved tomorrow, and I would ask that you not go looking for it again. If you do come across it again, then I know you are prepared. But remember, it does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget reality. That being said, your desire is very close to reality."

Harry nodded. "I'll remember that. And Professor? Thank you very much for returning the Cloak."

"You're welcome, Harry. Now, use it, and head back to bed, hmm?"

Harry had something occur to him as he began to leave, before he said, "Professor? You do know I know what you're guarding? The Philosopher's Stone?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Your sister told me. You trust that we have it under control?"

Harry nodded back. "Yes. But…if Quirrell decides to do something in the meantime, I won't hold back. If he comes after the students or me or anyone else again…" He left it up in the air, before leaving the room.

* * *

Dumbledore considered the situation, before turning to the Mirror. In truth, he hadn't actually moved it from the room where it stood at the end of an obstacle course. This was a projection of the Mirror of Erised, which had taken some serious magic, and one that wouldn't allow access to the Philosopher's Stone under any circumstances. But in all other ways, it would act as the Mirror(2).

He knew that Harry would want to use the Cloak to explore, sooner or later, which is why he set this up: as a test of sorts. And Harry had not only fulfilled his expectations, but had exceeded them. What worries Dumbledore had about Harry were dispelled. Between the neglect and psychological abuse of the Dursleys, and the battles the boy had already fought on the Planet, Dumbledore was worried that serious damage had been done to Harry's psyche.

But if there was serious damage, Dumbledore knew that Harry was fundamentally still a good and decent boy. He wanted not glory and recognition, despite his desire to be known as the Boy Who Strived than the Boy Who Lived. Rather, he wanted acceptance, family and friends. And it was already close to reality.

He only acquired the Mirror relatively recently, it being originally in Nicholas Flamel's possession. But he wondered, what would it have shown Tom Riddle, long before he became Voldemort? Could Dumbledore have reached the nascent Dark Lord in time, had he shown Riddle what he desired? Did Riddle desire immortality then? Dumbledore was already sure, in retrospect, that Riddle desired power, but when he first came to Hogwarts, it was because he had felt powerless in his life.

Had he done something to reach out, or to otherwise check Riddle's tendencies, could he have turned Riddle away from the dark path Voldemort was currently journeying on? It was useless to speculate, and to muse on what could have been, and what choices he could have made better. McGonagall had reminded him that it wasn't the mistakes one made, but how one went about remedying them.

But there was also the question of the girl standing near Harry, the one with Jenova-like features. While he wasn't acquainted with every prospective student of Hogwarts, he did know many within the village of Ottery St Catchpole, and he was almost certain that it was Luna Lovegood he saw, albeit with the silver hair and slit-pupilled eyes that Jenova had (as well as Harry, during his brief transformation). Why did she have Jenova-like features? Dumbledore noted that virtually all of those present in the mirror's image were people Harry considered friends or family, so Luna was obviously no enemy to Harry, at least. But what did that make her to the rest of the world?

Perhaps he should visit Xenophilus sometime soon.

* * *

The plain was filled with flowers, but it had no horizon or sky. Just scintillating ribbons of green energy. And on it, a girl with silvery hair and blue, slitted pupils walked alongside a blonde-haired woman dressed in battle armour. Both seemed strangely at ease around each other.

Ever since they had met in Harry's dreamscape, Luna and Minerva had taken to meeting on a semi-regular basis. They were now discussing the results of Luna's own personal investigation. During the trial, Xenophilus Lovegood (who had been present) had heard the Dementors speak a single word: Mother. And Harry had collapsed, and Jenova had very nearly done so. Her father didn't recognise the significance, as his knowledge of Jenova and Jenova cells had been erased by his own hand. But Luna did. Her father still had Jenova cells within him, albeit not many. But she had travelled later to Azkaban, or as close as she could get, and tried to sense the Dementors. She had never tried to until now, and she was grateful for that.

"I've confirmed it," Luna said, her usually bright and cheerfully ditzy air replaced with a solemnity and seriousness that shouldn't be present on her. "The Dementors are the worst kind of Jenova creature, a parody even of Mother at her worst. Barely sentient, completely malevolent. They exist only to consume souls and cause misery for others by dredging up their worst feelings and memories."

Minerva frowned. "And the Ministry of Magic is fool enough to believe that they are under control?"

"The Ministry of Magic is composed mostly of fools. The smart ones either wield power behind the scenes, or are impotent." Luna sighed sadly. "Your children have forgotten you, Minerva. Like too many people, magical or mundane, they become focused on petty issues and power. I suspect wrackspurts are to blame."

Minerva blinked in bemusement, before saying, "It's still disturbing to learn that there are Jenova monsters on Earth. And that both Jenova and Harry are susceptible. Which means that you may be. Would these foul creatures serve Voldemort if he ever came to power?"

"It's possible," Luna said. "I don't think they did last time, but the Ministry may have covered it up, like they do with the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Luna…I'll have to find remnants of the Cetra who lived at the time of Jenova's first advent," Minerva said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "They may have encountered something similar. There are a variety of beasts and monsters on Gaia, but I recall none like the Dementors. They may have knowledge of how to protect oneself against these things."

"There is one way," Luna said. "The Patronus Charm. It sends out a projection of one's hopes and best feelings that cannot feel despair, and repulses Dementors. But around Dementors, it is hard to think of a happy memory, which is what is needed. And given Harry's extreme adverse reaction to them…"

"Yes," Minerva said quietly.

"It is also an extremely advanced spell. Even older, more experienced wizards aren't guaranteed to be able to cast it." Suddenly, Luna blinked. "Wait a moment…I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"I don't know whether it will work…but Harry, when we first met, showed me the Materia he has with him3. It included something called a Summon Materia. It can summon up a powerful magical entity."

"I understand. You think it may be like a Patronus? That is not a bad idea, though a Summon does have more complex emotions than what you seem to indicate a Patronus has. Perhaps there is a Materia that could be used to trigger a Summon when a Dementor turns its attention to Harry. Perhaps I can form one." Minerva relished the challenge. Acting physically was an effort at times, but to forge a new Materia would be interesting enough to be more than worth it.

She still grimaced, though. Although Jenova had eaten souls, she was an epicure, and those she had eaten lately had been deserving of such a fate. Dementors, by comparison, were apparently gluttons, who would probably gladly sup on any soul that they wished if given leave. And to think that the Cetra of Earth, the wizards and witches, thought they could treat with them.

It was yet another burden to add onto Harry. He had a destiny to confront and defeat Voldemort for once and for all, if only because the prophecy made about Voldemort and his nemesis compelled the evil wizard. That, and his pride, his inability to admit defeat at the hands of a child. A similar destiny involved Sephiroth, and while no prophecy was involved, it was similar motives. Sephiroth would never admit defeat. Even now, in the darkest corners of the Lifestream, his fragmented will lurked, waiting. She could still smell his foul stench.

Another concern was Harry's increasing hybridisation. He was now becoming a Jenova creature. Minerva could only hope that the boy's will and morality, which had helped Jenova herself turn over a new leaf, would make sure he didn't turn out like Sephiroth. Or else get taken over by Sephiroth's will.

Because Minerva did not want to order his destruction.

 **CHAPTER 20 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **The Mirror of Erised scene turns out differently than in canon (though this is partly because they found out about Flamel early, so Harry is just exploring for the sake of it), Dumbledore considers things past and present, and Luna and Minerva are chatting away like old friends.**

 **If you think Harry was being too smart in figuring out the Mirror of Erised's purpose too quickly, well, remember he's had a lot more development on the Planet, especially after the fight with Sephiroth. He's been to school and allowed to thrive without the threat of his relatives giving him grief for outdoing Dudley. He's not as smart as Hermione (in the previous chapter, she was the one to notice the connection with Flamel, after all), but he's smarter, or at least his mind is more honed, than in canon. He also knows, thanks to Sirius, of other spells, including the Disillusionment Spell.**

 **As for Dumbledore being more frank with Harry than in canon, remember that Dumbledore has decided to be, because he thinks Harry is ready for this knowledge. He doesn't tell the whole story, obviously, but he is willing to tell Harry about Grindlewald being a former friend, and that Ariana's death could have been his fault. Harry appreciates the candour.**

 **Incidentally, the next episode may be some time coming. I'm finishing a playthrough of** ** _Borderlands_** **(I've finished the main campaign, and am now working through the DLC campaigns), and I want to start nutting together one of my non-fanfic stories. Please be patient.**

 **Review-answering time. Firstly,** **deathgeonous** **, who has posted reviews on all three of the stories in this series so far. Sorry you don't think much of the annotations, but they will stay. However, I am glad you enjoyed my stories, which is what counts.**

 **Shadoweater666** **: You happy now? ;)**

 **Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros** **: I never considered what Limit Break Dumbledore would have, and I'm not sure about the name. Why did you choose 'Eternal Aria'? As for Rufus and Lucius meeting, well, we shall see. I might include a scene where they meet at the beginning of my version of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **.**

 **1\. I couldn't resist this pun. Again (I did it way back in Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage).**

 **2\. If the Mirror was hiding the Stone in the first place, why move it out from the 'obstacle course'? This was my half-arsed attempt at a solution. Dumbledore has a facsimile of the Mirror with the same effect, but not with the Stone within.**

 **CHAPTER 20 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Mirror of Erised** **:** ** _On That Day, Five Years Ago_** **(FTG).**

 **Minerva and Luna** **:** ** _The Nightmare Begins_** **(FTG).**


	22. Chapter 21: The Stolen Materia

**NOTE: Sorry that it has taken longer than usual to get this episode out. I've been working on other stories, and inspiration for this story has dried up quite a bit. This will be the penultimate episode, and the one where the big battle takes place at the end, anyway.**

 **I would also like to point out that, beyond another shorter story set between the events of this one and the equivalent of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **, I'm not planning on writing any more stories in the Cetra Heritage Saga, at least for the time being. I might come back to do my version of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **later, but at the moment, I am VERY burnt out.**

* * *

 **EPISODE 5:**

 **THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE**

 _The best laid plans o' mice and men gang aft a-gley,_

 _And leave us naught but grief and pain for promised joy._

 _-_ Ode to a Mouse _, by Robert Burns._

 **CHAPTER 21:**

 **THE STOLEN MATERIA**

Being a bodyguard to Harry Gainsborough was not a task Snape relished. Not because he regretted his oath. He meant every word, and the boy was far better than his father. Still very much a Gryffindor, sometimes acting without thinking. But he had the cunning that Salazar Slytherin would have been proud of. And while the boy still had his father's mischievous streak, it was tempered. The boy was old for his age, perhaps too old, though how much of that was due to the Dursleys, and how much of it was due to the battles he had fought on the Planet, Snape didn't know.

Even so, Snape still didn't want to be a bodyguard. He placed a certain premium on self-preservation. Not that he was a coward. Indeed, Harry himself, after they had a private discussion about Snape's past, pointed out that to be a spy within the Death Eaters must've been appallingly dangerous. Especially with Voldemort's skill in Legilimency. But Snape felt that sacrificing one's life should be a last resort, not a first resort. Harry had agreed wholeheartedly.

Snape was brought to mind of a quote attributed to the famous Muggle, General George Patton. An American and a boor, but he had the right idea. Something about that no war was ever won by someone dying for their country, but rather, making the other guy die for their own(1).

Plus, there was the fact that Snape wasn't that fond of flying. It wasn't that he hated it or feared it. Indeed, he was one of the few wizards who could fly without a broomstick or without using an animagus transformation. It was perhaps the best bit of magic the Dark Lord ever taught him. But flying, from a tactical viewpoint, made one vulnerable to attack from far more angles than if one was on the ground(2). And few wizards were accustomed to fighting in three dimensions, even Snape. Playing Quidditch was another matter, but he wasn't that fond of the sport anyway. Maybe it was the fact that Potter was a star Quidditch player himself that soured Snape's own appreciation of the game, and of flying.

Nonetheless, he would play referee for this Quidditch match, and make sure that Quirrell didn't try anything. Or rather, his master. Even now, everyone in the know had suspicions that Quirrell was definitely possessed by Voldemort. If Snape still had his Dark Mark, would it burn, he wondered?

As he waited near the changing rooms, his broom in hand, he resisted an urge to clutch at his arm, where the Dark Mark once burned. It was mere delusion, like the phantom pain people felt in amputated limbs, only psychological in origin than neurological. But in a way, he could still feel it there, reminding him that he had been once branded by Voldemort like common cattle.

Voldemort…Snape found himself using the Dark Lord's sobriquet. Not that Snape would ever use the Muggle name of Voldemort. While remembering that he was a halfblood was good, it was better to remember the name he chose to inspire fear and awe, all the better to remember that the man (if you could call a creature like Voldemort a man) was a threat. Then again, who named their kid 'Sephiroth'? Unless you wanted them to be an angel…or a demon.

Dumbledore had refused to increase the protection around the Stone, saying only that he had someone watching it, and the students, in earnest. He had been annoyingly cryptic there. Then again, what else was new?

Snape had confided with Aerith, Jenova, and McGonagall about his concerns. As it turned out, Jenova was already playing guard around the Stone. The alien entity's ability to spread her consciousness across multiple bodies was freakish, but extraordinarily useful. Two bodies patrolled two sections of the layout. The first was situated just after the Devil's Snare. Jenova had her challenge set up there, between Sprout and Flitwick's respective challenges. Aerith had hers set up between Quirrell's obstacle…and Snape's own. The second Jenova body was currently patrolling the area around the Stone, where the Mirror of Erised was situated. And she was actually rather coy. She had smirked, and had said, " _Wait till you see what Dumbledore has cooked up for Voldemort._ "

He hoped it would be enough. Jenova seemed to think it was, and for all the woman's haughtiness and superiority, she was far from an imbecile. She just liked keeping secrets…and springing surprises on people.

The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams filed out of the changing rooms. Snape glared at them. "Well, come on, then," he said, a little more harshly than he intended. He still didn't want to fly.

* * *

When undertaking delicate matters where blame would potentially shift to you, it helped to have a proxy. That way, things could be done at one remove, and you had a potential scapegoat.

Voldemort didn't often do things this way. He wanted people to know that it was Lord Voldemort dominating them, being more powerful than them. But being weaker, lesser than he once was forced him to do things a bit more quietly, especially after the failure of the troll and of his attempt during the last Quidditch match. It was one thing to see the seeds of suspicion within the eyes of the staff. But he knew that Harry Potter was suspicious of him too. The boy had either been told, or figured out on his own. His perceptiveness and intelligence was quite admirable. A shame he had to die.

But the first thing Voldemort needed to do was defang this lion. The boy was skilled in magic, true, but his biggest strength, and weakness, was in the Materia. He'd been considering how to steal it for some time, until he hit upon the perfect solution: steal it during a Quidditch match. He also decided to snap Harry's wand for good measure. It wouldn't prevent the boy from getting another wand, but it would be a blow.

His patsy was extraordinarily simple to choose: Draco Malfoy. The little shit had a ridiculously deep grudge against Harry, and was the son of one of his Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy, who claimed to be under the Imperius. Well, that blonde-haired overly-groomed traitor would appreciate the irony in what Voldemort had done to his son.

Voldemort had experimented with various spells over the years. And indeed, while in his wraith-like state after Potter somehow destroyed his body, one of the things he would do to occupy him (obsessing over his revenge did get boring after a while) was thinking of hybridising spells arithmantically. One such spell was what he called the Manchurian Candidate spell, after a Muggle film he had heard of(3).

Simply put, it was a hybrid of the Imperius Curse and a Memory Charm. Primarily, it controlled a person like they were under the Imperius, but once their task had been fulfilled, they would forget about what they did, like they had been hit with Obliviate. What was more, special commands could be implanted into the spell that could have a verbal or visual trigger, and thus send the target into a brainwashed state once more, without actually having to cast the spell again.

The latter property was potentially useful, but Voldemort also knew that untested spells were dangerous. The only reason why he used it even now was that the reward of getting the Materia outweighed the risk of Draco dying or doing something strange. Not that he cared about Draco Malfoy's fate, but drawing attention to himself more than he already had wasn't wise. He decided not to test the trigger element. Instead, he merely sent Draco to steal the Materia from the locker room, and then hide it at a predetermined location. Namely, a hollow tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. No centaurs would be patrolling there at this time, but he cast a Disillusionment spell on Draco just in case.

Beneath the turban, the rudimentary face Voldemort had grown on the back of Quirrell's head smirked. The Boy Who Lived did have some tricks up his sleeve, which would only serve to make his downfall all the more entertaining. But stealing the Materia and snapping Harry's wand would help to level the playing field a little, ere the coming battle. And a message he intended to have sent with the wand would keep the boy on edge.

He was just a boy. But if what he saw with the troll and with the last Quidditch match was any indication, then there was more to him than met the eye. Still, one shouldn't leave Materia lying around. Anyone could steal it…

* * *

Back on the Planet, Yuffie sneezed. Then, she looked at the young woman whom a doctor was examining. They were in one of the medical bays at Shinra HQ, and Yuffie was finding it hard to believe that the young, demure, sad-looking woman in front of her was none other than the mother of Sephiroth. Or one of Shinra's former top scientists from more than a few decades ago.

"Is this necessary?" Vincent asked Rufus, his raspy voice tinged with faint annoyance.

"Vincent…" Lucrezia warned, before looking over at Rufus. "I am capable of performing my own medical examinations. I did so during…" She seemed torn for a moment as to what to call it, before plumping for, "…my pregnancy."

"Be that as it may, Doctor Crescent, you are an AWOL Shinra staff member who has suddenly reappeared after a long absence. Not only that, but you deliberately infected yourself with a biological agent known to have potentially deleterious side effects. Given that both your lover and your son went insane, you'll forgive these understandable precautions," Rufus said coldly.

"Rufus…" growled Vincent, before Cloud put a restraining hand on the dark-haired man's shoulder. Barrett and Cid were still indisposed, but Cloud and Tifa made an effort to visit Vincent and Lucrezia, and Yuffie, back from her latest stay in Wutai, was here as well. Nanaki and Reeve also stood in the room.

"I can sense the Jenova cells within you, Rufus," Lucrezia said. "You're as much of a risk as I am."

The doctor examining Lucrezia was already aware of Rufus' condition. He withdrew a blood sample, and fed it into a bioanalyser. As it ran, Cloud said, "I also have Jenova cells within me. Hojo infected me."

"Yet another crime to add to his litany," Lucrezia sighed. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that Jenova, the main consciousness, is now on our side. Or was once the guiding consciousness of another world. Where is she, anyway?"

"Resting," Rufus said. "Her consciousness is split across two worlds and, from what she told me, multiple bodies. Even to one such as her, it is taxing."

"What of Harry?" Cloud asked, concerned. Although he had once been suspicious of the boy, he was now concerned for his well-being. He had heard of the attempts on Harry's life, not to mention Aerith nearly getting killed.

"Apparently he is participating in another match of that Quidditch game the wizards and witches play. Reeve, Cait Sith works fine in Hogwarts, doesn't he? The Mako shielding works well against magic, doesn't it?"

Reeve nodded, getting what Rufus said. "Cait Sith can send video files if we want. And it would be easy to modify a video camera that we'd normally use for security and safety within a Mako Reactor. I'll ask Cait Sith to send us any saved video of the Quidditch matches."

"Do you think someone will make another attempt on his life?" Tifa asked.

"It's possible, but whoever did it is laying low, I've been told," Rufus said. "They are either an agent of this Voldemort, or else someone allowing Voldemort to possess their body. That being said, Aerith and Jenova actually divulged some interesting information, with permission from Dumbledore, as well as a man by the name of Nicholas Flamel. Voldemort is after something called the Philosopher's Stone, a potent catalyst used in alchemy, said to be mythical. Only one person has been said to make it: the Nicholas Flamel fellow I mentioned. With it, he has created an Elixir of Life, granting him immortality. Or so the legends go. The truth is actually very different. The Philosopher's Stone does not exist, or at least not in the manner that most people believe. Oh, a stone does exist, and Flamel and his wife are very much immortal. But if Voldemort thinks he can use the Stone to gain immortality, he's in for a nasty surprise…"

* * *

Harry was elated. True, he had probably pissed off Snape somewhat when he caught the Snitch. He had dived rather close to the Potions Master, after all. But he had won the match for Gryffindor, and nothing bad had happened.

Of course, it was as he was changing that he realised something was wrong. He couldn't find the Aurora Armlet, the Materia on it, or his wand. In a moment of panic, he searched through the locker, before uttering a single expletive. "Shit!"

Fred and George ambled over. "Hey, what's the matter, Harry?" Fred asked.

"The teachers would be taking points off for that kind of foul language," George said with a grin.

"Guys, where is my Materia? Or my wand?" Harry asked. He was acquainted enough of what happened when the Twins were either guilty of a prank, or else not concerned about what was happening.

Their expressions turned deadly serious in a heartbeat. Fred had his wand out from his locker and over to Harry's in a moment. After casting a spell Harry didn't recognise, Fred looked at him. "Someone's used a few spells on this. The lockers are warded against a simple _Alohamora_ spell."

George yelled at Wood. "Wood! Get McGonagall here! Someone's nicked Harry's wand and Materia!"

"And get Snape too!" Harry said. "And Calamitas as well!"

As Wood ran out hurriedly, George turned to Harry. "You trust Snape?" he asked incredulously.

"At least where important things are concerned," Harry said.

McGonagall, Snape, and Jenova all swept in some minutes later, along with Flitwick (his Charms expertise being useful in cases like this). They discussed Fred's diagnostic spellwork, before Flitwick performed his own diagnostic charms. When he got the results, he nodded gravely. "This is, indeed, more than just an _Alohamora_ charm. These were a series of charms designed to disable the wards, before a high-powered _Alohamora_ charm was used to unlock it."

"There's nothing else missing from the lockers, Wood?"

Wood shook his head. "Nothing missing from my locker, and I'm sure the girls would have noticed by now. Fred? George?"

The Twins shook their heads. "Someone's targeted Harry," Fred offered.

George added, "And did so while everyone was busy with Quidditch. It'd be a marvellous prank if it weren't so serious."

"Indeed," McGonagall said archly. "Filius, who would be able to use such spells?"

"They are fairly advanced spells. They would be well-known to curse-breakers, but other than _Alohamora_ , they're not on the curriculum," the diminutive professor mused. "Most likely an adult?"

"It means little," Snape said. "I know for a fact that these spells are well-known to certain individuals, who could have taught them to their children. Certain ward-breaking spells are useful enough in combat to break down shields. And the Imperius curse can be used to have people use a spell that they themselves do not know." When he said _certain individuals_ , Harry and Jenova knew that he meant the Death Eaters.

"What's more, while we were keeping an eye on certain individuals…we cannot keep an eye on every person who leaves the pitch," Jenova said. "The only people we can definitively eliminate are those participating in the Quidditch match, and the staff." _Although if Snape is right, Quirrell could have been pulling the strings_ , Jenova said mentally to Harry, for his benefit.

"So anyone might've been able to slip out and steal from the locker?" Harry asked.

"Yes. We need to find out who, and fast," Jenova said.

* * *

The mood was soured even more when an object was found on the path to the castle. It was Harry's wand, snapped into several pieces, and with a folded sheet of paper below it. The message on the paper looked like it had been typed rather than written (there were spells that could 'print' letters onto paper), and it was definitely a threat.

 _This is your fate, Harry Potter. Broken and left dead in the mud. Where you belong_.

Harry clenched his fist. _Bastard_ , he thought to himself. _You will not get away with this. I will make sure of that_.

 **CHAPTER 21 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, there's a twist. And I've decided that this episode and the next one will be the last ones for this story. Which means that Harry and company will be going through the trapdoor sooner than in canon.**

 **BTW, the truth about the Philosopher's Stone will be in this episode.**

 **1\. I like this quote, but apparently it came from the movie rather than from an actual speech by Patton.**

 **2\. This is an oblique reference to the webcomic** ** _Second Empire_** **, which is about an army of Daleks who break away from the main Dalek Empire. It's surprisingly funny and heartwarming. In one scene, a group of newly-born Daleks are being drilled about procedures. Even though Daleks can fly, they point out that doing so in many combat situations just leaves you open to fire from more enemies.**

 **3\. Based on a novel by Richard Condon,** ** _The Manchurian Candidate_** **was a 1962 film about Communists brainwashing a group of US soldiers they had abducted. A remake was made in 2004, albeit with different antagonists.**

 **CHAPTER 21 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Stolen!** **:** ** _Trail of Blood_** **(FTG).**


	23. Chapter 22: The Forbidden Forest

**CHAPTER 22:**

 **THE FORBIDDEN FOREST**

Rubeus Hagrid may have been a big oaf of a man, and more than a little simple, but people forgot that in many regards, he wasn't actually completely stupid. And something stank about what was happening in the Forbidden Forest. It was certainly no coincidence that this was happening at the same time as the Philosopher's Stone was being hidden, that was for sure.

Hagrid had an obsession with all magical creatures. While he was infamous for treating fearsome beasts like they were cuddly, it didn't mean he felt that traditionally endearing magical creatures were beneath his notice. Unicorns, for example. No, he thought all creatures great and small were bright and beautiful…even the ones that breathed fire or spat poison. He'd be entranced by a Basilisk even as it killed him with its gaze.

So when his occasional sojourns into the Forbidden Forest turned up evidence of attacks on unicorns, he was angry. Furious beyond belief. Unicorns were both a beautiful beast, and a pure one. Not only that, but their whole bodies were saturated with magic. Unicorn horns, shed from the beasts, were ingredients in many a potion, while unicorn hairs were standard wand cores.

But Hagrid knew what purpose these poor animals had been slaughtered for: their blood. It was a potent source of life-force, able to keep even one on the verge of death alive. But to drink the blood, you had to kill them, and to drink the blood then meant you were cursed. No joy would be felt from anything you did in life. A half-life, at best.

It was not just that, though. Some unicorns had been found dead, killed by some unknown magic. As they had been outside the main detection wards of Hogwarts, nothing had been noticed until Hagrid stumbled across the corpses.

And Hagrid wasn't stupid: he had an inkling of who would be doing it. Quirrell. After all, Harry and the others had talked about Quirrell and Snape being suspects, and while Snape was not a friend, he'd have put more money on Quirrell, despite how hard it was to believe. He had brought the matter to Dumbledore's attention. The Headmaster had nodded gravely, and told him to warn the centaurs. Any unicorns the centaurs herded, they should take deeper into the Forbidden Forest.

Twice a week, he took nightly sojourns into the Forbidden Forest, to patrol for anything. On occasion, he'd visit his old friend and former pet Acromantula, Aragog. However, this time, he wasn't alone.

This night, Aerith Gainsborough and Cait Sith would be accompanying him.

The young woman was fearless. There was much in her that reminded Hagrid of Harry's mother, and it wasn't just the warm, green eyes. There was the fearless qualities, not to mention being one of the few people able to get Snape, the bane of many a Gryffindor, to open up. Hagrid didn't quite like Snape, but the two had an understanding of sorts, and the two were on as good terms as Snape could ever be with anyone.

In the day since the Quidditch match, and the theft of Harry's Materia and the snapping of his wand, most of the staff had been on the warpath. Some were close to Harry because they had been close to one or more of the boy's birth parents. Many knew that whoever stole the Materia and snapped his wand had nothing less than Harry's downfall in mind.

Even Argus Filch was ready and willing to help. The embittered older man had gotten his first taste of magic-casting thanks to Aerith's Christmas gift of Materia, and was paranoid that someone may attempt to steal his own.

But they were no closer to finding the culprit. The prime suspect was Quirrell, but without evidence, they could not confront him, and he had been in the stadium the entire time. It was possible that a student was involved. The Heads of Houses were asked to confront their students and warn of the consequences if the thief didn't come forward. To nobody's surprise, not only did nobody come forward, but in much of Slytherin, there were many who reckoned Potter didn't deserve his trinkets. Malfoy and his supporters were the most vocal in this.

That being said, Snape did get some support from a few of his students. Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, and Blaise Zabini in the first year, along with a number of older students, agreed to keep their ears to the ground and see whether anyone knew anything. Their reasoning was somewhat pragmatic: an attack on Harry would immediately cast suspicion on Slytherin. The first Quidditch match had already shown that, with the other three Houses casting suspicious looks at any Slytherins afterwards. After all, many former Death Eaters had children in that House. Some might want, or have been encouraged by their parents, to take revenge for Voldemort.

Hagrid knew that Dumbledore would do the right thing. But he also knew that not everyone shared his faith, especially at the moment.

* * *

Aerith was cursing herself. She should have found a way to make sure that the Materia Harry had had some sort of protection against theft. An oversight that may not just cost Harry his life, but, if her suspicions were correct, might also bring Voldemort power he didn't deserve, but he would nonetheless exploit. Harry had barely used the full capabilities of the Enemy Skills Materia in his duel with Draco, but Quirrell had seen Frog Song, Magic Hammer, and Beta. Aerith had used Pandora's Box against the troll, but Quirrell hadn't been present to see that. She shuddered to think of Voldemort using Bad Breath or Shadow Flare against a student.

In the absence of anything constructive to do against Quirrell, lest she foul up the chance to trap Voldemort, she seized upon a chance remark that Hagrid had made about the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. And as there had been not much demanded for her services as a Healer lately, she decided to accompany him.

Cait Sith was also coming with her, though Jenova was staying to keep an eye on the Materia situation. The toy cat was clinging to her shoulders as she strode from the castle, warm heavy robes over her usual garb. "Lassie, yer sure this is a good idea?" Cait Sith asked.

"Probably not," Aerith said. "But those unicorns…Hagrid said that some were being killed by unfamiliar magic. At least one of those sounded like Bad Breath. Partial blindness, partial petrification, they died in a rabid rage…they're immune to poison, though, from what Hagrid tells me."

They soon came to Hagrid's hut, where the giant man was readying a massive crossbow, his massive boarhound by his side. "Alright there, Aerith? Cait Sith?"

"Hi, Hagrid," Aerith said with a smile. Despite his rather simple nature, it was hard not to like the man. More than a little oblivious to the dangers of many a magical creature, but it was probably because, according to Dumbledore, Hagrid was half-giant, and thus less likely to be hurt by many of these creatures. Maybe one day, she should take him to the Planet to see some of the beasts there. She had given him a zoology book from the Planet, an old book she had found in her father's laboratory at Icicle Inn. Not surprisingly, he had been entranced.

Hagrid nodded, before his expression became serious. "Now, listen carefully, Aerith, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, and I don' want you takin' risks." He led them over to a dirt path, and pointed out a faint shining light, reflecting the moonlight amongst the dark trees on the edge of the forest. "See that there?"

"I do," Aerith said, walking over to the liquid pooled in a small puddle on the ground. It seemed to shine not only with the moonlight, but also from within. It was beautiful, and yet, melancholy. "This is unicorn blood, then?"

"Aye. A unicorn has been hurt badly by summat," Hagrid said with a growl of anger. "It's happenin' more an' more frequently. We'll hafta find it. If necessary, we may hafta put it out of its misery."

"Let me try healing spells first," Aerith said. "I might even be able to do one of my Limit Breaks. Great Gospel would be best, but Healing Wind might work. If the unicorn's only just dead, a Life spell or a Phoenix Down might help."

Hagrid nodded. He would rather a unicorn was saved if he could help it, and these healing spells Aerith used were potent. He hoped that they were enough, though…

* * *

They followed the trail of the blood into the forest. Aerith did feel a slight thrill of fear, going through the forest at night, but she had been in more frightening locations. The Cave of the Gi in Cosmo Canyon came to mind, filled with ghosts and monsters. And, of course, there was the Crater, when they travelled down to confront Sephiroth.

Even so, the darkness could hide a lot of things. Things that could kill them.

It didn't take much searching to find the unicorn. Aerith and Cait Sith both gasped in horror at the sight of the beautiful creature, sprawled on the ground, its very lifeblood leaking onto the grass. It moved, weakly, so it was still alive. Immediately, Aerith knelt next to the creature, and tapped the Materia on her bangle. "Curaga," she intoned(1).

The unicorn let out a faint whinny of pain as its wounds closed up, sparkling with green light. As the beast got, rather unsteadily, to his feet, Aerith heard a voice say, "What sort of magic does this woman use on the most pure of creatures?"

Hagrid emitted a yelp, and then said, "Bane! You startled me! I could have shot you!"

"I could have shot you long ere you saw me, Hagrid," said the voice, with an amused undertone. "Now, I ask again, what sort of magic did she use?"

Aerith turned to face the speaker, and paused, for a moment. A trio of centaurs were present: man from the waist up, and below that, the body of a horse. The leader, a proud, wild-looking man with dark hair, was looking at her with naked suspicion. Another had red hair and a beard. The youngest of the trio had pale, white-blonde hair, and was looking at her with curiosity in his bright blue eyes.

"Healing magic," Aerith said, speaking for herself.

"It was not like any magic I have ever seen," the red-haired centaur, not the one who had spoken, mused. He had a deep, mournful voice.

"I use a different focus for it," Aerith said. Her hand went to roll back her sleeve, only for the leader to raise the bow.

"Bane, she's okay, she's a friend!" Hagrid protested. To Aerith, he said, quietly, "Show them slowly."

She did so, and the trio of centaurs trotted forward, and examined what lay exposed. "It cannot be," the youngest one murmured.

"You, woman," Bane said.

"My name is Aerith Gainsborough," Aerith remarked acidly.

"Very well, _Aerith_ ," Bane said, though his scowl showed that he didn't take kindly to the correction. "Why do you carry a magic focus that hasn't been seen for centuries? Why do you carry Materia?"

"I come from another world," Aerith said. "I am the last of the Cetra born on that world. Have you heard of them?"

"Of course, though you are bold to claim such a connection."

"Does one need to be bold to tell the truth?" Aerith asked. "Anyway, I revived the unicorn. A near-thing, too. A minute more, and…" She left that in the air with a morose sigh.

"Then you have our thanks, Aerith Gainsborough," the blonde-haired centaur said.

"Indeed," the red-haired one concurred. Bane merely nodded.

"Ronan, have the unicorns under your care been moved deeper into the forest?" Hagrid asked.

The red-haired centaur nodded. "But we cannot do much about some who wander from the herd, and their killer is growing ever more bold. Always the innocents are the first victims. So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Someone is murdering the unicorns for their blood," the blonde-haired one said. "Someone who desires immortality. Someone who believes that what they seek lies within the castle."

"Firenze…" Bane said, warningly.

"We know," Aerith said. "And I give you my solemn vow, I will do my utmost to stop them."

"Many humans have given vows before," Bane said haughtily. "On their honour, on their magic, on their lives. And they have broken them before. What makes your vow any different?"

"How many have kept their word?" Aerith asked. "I intend to be one of them. If I break it, it will be not by my choice. And I am not the only one who wants to stop the evil."

"Then what of the Calamity?" Bane asked. "The stars foretold that the Calamity from the Skies, the doom of the Cetra, would come here."

"Did the stars foretell what she would do?" Aerith asked. "She is as much the guardian of the Stone as I am. Voldemort will not get the Stone. And his days of murdering the unicorns, or anyone else, are numbered." She looked at the unicorn, which trotted over to her and nuzzled her gently. "That is what I vow."

 **CHAPTER 22 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **God, this was a hard one to get out. I've been distracted by other stories. And my playthrough of** ** _BioShock Infinite_** **.**

 **Anyway, I wanted to do a Forbidden Forest scene, but because I wanted the story to wrap up earlier than in canon, I decided to have Aerith assisting Hagrid.**

 **1\. I decided that, for some of the spells, I would say 'Curaga' and the like instead of, say, 'Cure 3'.**

 **CHAPTER 22 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Forbidden Forest** **:** ** _City Music 1 and 2_** **, from** ** _Doctor Who: The Daleks_** **, composed by Tristram Cary.**


	24. Chapter 23: Voldemort Makes His Move

**CHAPTER 23:**

 **VOLDEMORT MAKES HIS MOVE**

Voldemort was ecstatic. He was in a state of happiness he had rarely been in, even before his defeat, and that he hadn't actually been in since said defeat. The Materia he had tested both in the Forbidden Forest, and in the Room of Requirement, and it was certainly a boon. While Voldemort's arrogance knew no bounds, if there was a magic that he thought he could use, he would use it, regardless of whether you needed a wand, or these crystalline orbs.

He had determined what the Materia did, other than what the Potter brat had already told Quirrell. The green one, which healed, was useless for most of his purposes, though better to be safe than sorry. Healing magic could be useful if necessary. The blue one he had little patience for: he didn't intend to die again. The red one, well, he was astonished when he summoned Phoenix, only to begin howling with laughter. The irony was that Dumbledore had a pet phoenix, but this one was immensely more powerful. The yellow one's various spells were an eclectic bunch, but he got the hang of the more useful ones quickly.

He knew that with these spells, he had what he needed to get past any enchantments and obstacles in his way. He was going to wait until he could get a hold of a dragon egg to bribe that oaf Hagrid about how to get past the Cerberus, but that had proven unnecessary. All he had to do was kill the damned mongrel beast (albeit as quietly as possible to avoid alerting anyone else), and then make his way down through the trapdoor beneath.

That being said, he wanted to kill two birds with one stone. He intended to bring Harry Potter down, partly to kill the Boy Who Lived as part of his triumphant return, and partly because you never knew whether you needed a meat shield for traps. Even if he failed to get the Stone, and he was left to wander the world as a bodiless wraith (temporarily) once more, he would be satisfied to know that Dumbledore, along with that Gainsborough woman and that Calamitas bitch, would be horrified upon seeing Harry Potter's bloodied and mutilated corpse. In fact, he hoped it would be their Boggart for a long time to come. The thought would keep him warm at night, he believed.

As for how he would get Harry to come with him…well, he had that covered too. Quirrell had a memory in his mind, of going to a Muggle movie a couple of years after Voldemort's downfall. _Return of the Jedi_. A quote from the movie came to mind, of a conversation between a young man called Skywalker, and a decrepit old pseudo-sorcerer called Palpatine. " _Your overconfidence is your weakness._ " " _Your faith in your friends is yours._ "

The movie was a ridiculous, conceited work, albeit a visually spectacular and impressive one. Voldemort wondered whether the makers had wizards on hand to help with the special effects(1). It was a useless speculation, save for whether he might save that particular group of Muggles from a slow, painful death. Immortalising his rise to power in film was an intriguing idea. He had vaguely fond memories of the few films he had seen while growing up in the orphanage, how they captured the imagination and ensnared the senses. Nothing like magic, of course, but still, he had to admit to himself if to nobody else that Muggles sometimes weaved a magic all of their own. Which was why they were so dangerous, even when they were beneath him.

In any case, Harry's friends and family were his weakness. Voldemort didn't consider his followers friends, though he used that endearment often enough with them. They were, ultimately, disposable to varying degrees, even dear Bellatrix. And who did Voldemort have for family? His mother perished not long after giving birth. His father was a useless and arrogant Muggle noble who discarded her. His uncle and grandfather were a bunch of inbred dullards who were as unworthy of their legacy as the descendants of Slytherin as much as a Muggle would be. And only his uncle remained alive, little more than a half-insane mess in Azkaban(2).

Voldemort took great pleasure in committing patricide, even if it was only by proxy, by sending his uncle Morfin Gaunt to murder them, using the Imperius curse. It was a means of divesting himself of his past, from both sides of the family. His only concession to his family was when he took the Gaunt Ring. Nothing so proud should belong in a family of incestuous near-Squibs, anyway.

If truth be told, Voldemort was just as disgusted with Purebloods as he was with Halfbloods and Muggleborns. His maternal family was an extreme case, true, but many Purebloods were a lot of half-inbred idiots, regardless of whether or not they followed the blood purity creed. They tended to be more useful because they knew more magic than the rest. That, and they were also more easily controlled, as long as you told them what they wanted to hear. That they were special. That they were _superior_.

But there was only one person who could be superior, who _deserved_ to be so. Voldemort had learned early on that in order to become superior, one had to seize power, no matter how you did it. You had to be willing to sneer at taboos in order to gain power over people, over life, and even over death itself. Only then could you be considered worthy of that power.

As he made his preparations for the night's activities, he thought back to that night over ten years ago. The Killing Curse, _Avada Kedavra_ , invariably killed the target. The only true countermeasure was to either avoid the spell, or else have something (or someone: Voldemort had once interposed a treacherous underling's comrade between him and the spell) between you and it. And yet, not only did Harry survive a direct hit from the spell (and with only a scar to show for it), the damned thing rebounded, destroying Voldemort's body, and leaving a wraith. If it weren't for the horcruxes, Voldemort would be dead, and it was a chilling thought. Voldemort's thanatophobia was paramount, though he would never admit it to another living soul, and the thought of how close he had come to oblivion chilled him to the bone.

What had protected Harry Potter? Voldemort had pondered that very problem over and over again. He had all the time in the world to do so, and it was one of his preoccupations, other than getting a new body and assuring his immortality. And while it wasn't healthy to brood, the simple fact was that Voldemort wanted to know for a number of reasons. Firstly, to survive the Killing Curse had no known precedent that he knew of, and perhaps it could help him remain immortal. Secondly, he wanted to be prepared before he faced the brat again, for whatever thwarted Voldemort once could thwart him again. Know thy enemy. And finally, he had to admit to genuine curiosity, behind the thwarted frustration. Lord Voldemort may have been ambitious, true, but he also had a thirst for knowledge that would be the envy of many a Ravenclaw. Most of it dark knowledge, but if something actually interested and intrigued him, then he wanted to know the answer.

He had narrowed things down to a small number of possibilities, but his pet theory was Lily Potter, née Evans, had stumbled across some ritual or other, an obscure one, that would protect her son. But why not use the same ritual on themselves? Voldemort did not know. He did not like being ignorant, either.

Of course, it would all be a moot point ere long. He intended to kill Harry Potter. The Killing Curse may have rebounded, but it didn't mean other curses could be used in inventive ways, or using his own Materia against him…and there was also throttling the little bastard, or snapping his neck. Not exactly a dignified way for a Dark Lord to kill his foe, but there was a certain visceral appeal all the same.

First, though, he would need to bring the brat. Which was where his Manchurian Candidate spell came into play. The Mudblood Granger and the Blood-Traitor Weasley succumbed easily. He considered whether to bring Gainsborough into it or not. He decided against that after some thought. While she could be good leverage, her absence from the Hospital Wing might be noted swiftly. And attacking Professor Calamitas wouldn't end well.

He managed to ensnare Granger and Weasley with the spell during the DADA class. After dinner, they would bring Potter with him, by hook or by crook. He also sent a letter to Dumbledore with a strong compulsion charm, meaning that the Headmaster would be halfway to the Ministry of Magic (on broom, rather than by Floo!) by the time that Voldemort got things together.

He grinned inwardly. Soon, he would have the Philosopher's Stone, and this carcass he was hitching a ride on would be of little use. And the Boy Who Lived…would become the Boy Who Died. All was right in the world.

* * *

Potter's friends had brought him right on schedule. Quirrell, on Voldemort's command, said, "So nice of you to join us, Mr Potter."

The boy was glaring at Quirrell. Voldemort had the notion that the boy had suspected them for some time. "What did you do to them?"

Ah, so he had spotted the curse. "Nothing too bad. Just a little curse of my master's design," Quirrell said. "Ms Granger, and Mr Weasley…on my command, which is to say if Mr Potter shows any inclination to harm my person, or too much insolence…kill yourselves. Use a Cutting Curse on your necks."

"Yes, sir," Granger and Weasley chorused, raising their wands, pointing them at their necks.

"Bastard," Potter snarled.

"Language, Mr Potter. I'd take off points…but that would be something of a moot point."

The boy scowled, before he said, "You're the puppet. So who's pulling the strings?"

"I'm sure you can guess," Quirrell said amiably. "But we have no time to dilly-dally. Come along, Potter, lest you wish to see your friends kill themselves messily. Or perhaps I can make them use the Cruciatus Curse on themselves."

Voldemort had to admire the defiance on Harry Potter's face. Not only that, but the promise of a slow, painful death in those emerald eyes. The boy had a lot of spirit and bravery. No wonder he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. It made him wonder how his now deceased spy, Pettigrew, ever made it into that House. After all, he only joined the Death Eaters out of fear, and had spent the past decade hiding as a bloody rat! Bravery Voldemort could admire, and it was clear that Harry Potter was his parents' child, no matter what he claimed his surname was.

Quirrell unlocked the door to the third floor corridor, and gestured for Harry to go inside. He then sent the two brainwashed friends after them, before joining them, and locking the door behind them with a charm more powerful than the one on it. Dumbledore's arrogance knew no bounds, it seemed.

Quirrell looked defiantly at the Cerberus, who was stirring and waking up. Voldemort decided to make the beast's death prolonged and painful, as a preview to Harry for his own death, as well as to make that half-breed oaf Hagrid suffer. "Bad Breath!" Quirrell snarled, touching the Materia.

The Cerberus was immediately engulfed in pungent, ink-black smoke. A threatening snarl died in its throats, and it slumped, asleep. "Aqua Breath(3)!" Quirrell cried out.

Spheres of water surrounded the Cerberus' three heads, and bubbles blasted out of their mouths as the water rushed down their throats. The dog twitched, convulsed, and spasmed, drowning while in a magically-induced sleep. Voldemort smiled at the thought of the water filling the monster's lungs. It was a slow, painful death, and the only thing that Voldemort wished was the case was that the beast was conscious enough to feel the pain to the utmost.

The monster dog subsided, and as the spheres of water disappeared, mucus drooled out of the mouths. But Voldemort wanted to make sure. Voldemort did not believe that there was any such thing as overkill.

"Beta!" Quirrell yelled.

The carcass of the Cerberus was consumed by what looked like a nuclear explosion in miniature. It was consumed within seconds, the pungent ashes scattering around the room.

 _Thus is the fate all those who oppose me will suffer_ , Voldemort thought to himself. _Let this be the sign of my advent and my ascendancy. Lord Voldemort rises again_.

Quirrell ushered Harry to the trapdoor, his brainwashed friends in tow. Opening it, he then shoved Harry and his friends down, before carefully lowering himself through. Time to confront what pitiful defences Dumbledore had in place around the Stone…

 **CHAPTER 23 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Another chapter that took a long time to get out. Ayiyiyiyi…**

 **So, we get some insight into Voldemort's character. I wanted him to have some more nuance. It's clear from canon that he holds everyone, even the Purebloods, in contempt. I wanted to give some insight into that.**

 **1\. Voldemort showing his ignorance of special effects, as well as his admiration of them. Then again, ILM have probably been called special effects wizards…**

 **2\. I'm assuming that Dumbledore doesn't visit Morfin Gaunt until at least after the events of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **, when he needs to know about the Horcruxes and Voldemort's past.**

 **3\. I am NOT calling it 'Aqua Lung'.**

 **No soundtrack suggestions this time. Sorry.**


	25. Chapter 24: Through the Trapdoor

**CHAPTER 24:**

 **THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR**

Harry cursed himself for being so stupid as to follow his friends here. He knew something was wrong, but they had told him someone had gotten injured by Quirrell while trying to stop him from stealing the Stone. And then, he found Quirrell himself there. And his friends under his control.

With his friends controlled by Quirrell, Harry had no choice but to wait and see what happened. He didn't want his friends to be killed. But it didn't mean that he was going in without any warning to any others.

As Quirrell prepared to kill Fluffy, Harry spoke to Jenova. _Jenova, Quirrell's making his move. Ron and Hermione are under some sort of control, probably the Imperius. He has my Materia, and he's using it to kill Fluffy_.

Jenova's voice came back down the connection. _Okay. I have three bodies in this castle. I'm going to fetch Aerith and Cait Sith. Dumbledore's gone to the Ministry, but I'll go and see if I can persuade Fawkes to fetch him. I'll get any staff members I can rouse. Meanwhile, I've got two bodies in the obstacle course leading up to the Stone. My challenge is basically to beat one of my monster forms. I'll throw the fight there, in case he decides to use you as a meat shield. I have another body guarding the Stone. Hold on until then, and don't piss him off_.

Harry finished speaking with her in time to see Fluffy's last moments, drowning from the effects of Aqua Breath, before Quirrell incinerated the Cerberus' corpse. For all its monstrosity, Harry felt a pang of sadness at the massive dog's passing, and an even stronger surge of anger at Quirrell.

After he was shoved through the trapdoor, he landed on something soft…something that began to writhe and constrict around him, and his brainwashed friends. In the dim light, he could barely see that it was a plant of some kind. Quirrell floated down, looking down at them as he hovered, just above the writhing tendrils of the plant. "My, my, Devil's Snare. Lethal, to one who is unprepared. But no obstacle to a trained wizard. Sprout must've been afraid of actually hurting someone." He smirked down at Harry. "Now, should I leave you to die here and now? No, no, I may need you as fodder." He clicked his fingers, and flames suddenly burst into life above the plant. It cringed, and shrank away, releasing them.

Harry and his controlled friends got to their feet. Quirrell escorted them down a stone passageway. Suddenly, with a shriek and a roar of unearthly fury, a creature surged down the corridor towards them. Harry recognised it as a smaller version of the Jenova creature Sephiroth had sicced on them in the deepest depths of the Crater, a massive hollow globe of flesh, with a feminine figure on the front, and waving tendrils.

"Ah, this must be Professor Calamitas' obstacle," Quirrell said, almost conversationally. He then tapped the Materia on his wrist. "Shadow Flare!" he yelled.

The creature shrieked as it seemed to flare from positive to negative, and dissolved into a gooey mess. "Well…I expected something more challenging," Quirrell murmured, wrinkling his nose from the stink erupting from the mephitic puddle.

Harry's gaze flickered over to Quirrell, but he refrained from saying anything, to Quirrell, anyway. To Jenova, he asked, _Are you all right?_

 _Yes. That was highly unpleasant, all the same. Normally, I would have made a better effort to tear this guy apart, but he's got you, and besides, these obstacles are meant to be a lure. Okay, I've got Aerith, Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Cait Sith's already on his way to the door, and I've sent Fawkes to get Dumbledore. We'll be there shortly. I know you can't risk delaying him too much, but every moment counts._

 _He charmed the door after he closed it. It might not open easily._

 _Don't worry. If I have to, I'll blast it open with Ultima. I'm also waiting in the room with the Stone. Hold on_.

By this point, they had reached a new chamber, a large one that was brightly lit, and filled with birds. No, not birds, Harry realised. They were too shiny and oddly-shaped for that.

Quirrell strode to the door on the other side, and said, " _Alohamora!_ " When the door refused to open, he frowned, and checked it with some sort of spell. "Well, at least Flitwick knows how to charm a door shut." He then waved his hand. " _Accio_ Key!" Once more, nothing happened, and he smiled bitterly. "No, I don't suppose it would be that easy." He noted the broomsticks in the corner. "Potter, find the key. I'm sure your Seeker reflexes will be useful. And no tricks."

* * *

In the final room of the gauntlet, Jenova was perched, as hidden as she could be, in the ceiling, amongst the rafters. The Mirror of Erised was down below, and the sealing array ready to entrap Voldemort's spirit…assuming it would work. Dumbledore may be a master sealer, but Voldemort was powerful and tenacious. Trapping Voldemort within the Mirror was a best-case scenario. Hopefully, even if Voldemort did escape, his power would be weakened.

That being said, Jenova was not along in the rafters of the room. An elegant man with white hair and proud, youthful features was sitting above as well. "And so, the endgame begins," he murmured.

Jenova gave him a glance. "This isn't a game. Harry and his friends' lives are at stake."

"I know. And so too is the fate of the world, Jenova. In any case, the time has probably come for me to fade from this world. The vultures and hyenas keep circling, and they would not believe the true nature of the Stone, or else try to exploit it should they find out." The man looked down into the chamber. "Your child is a remarkable boy."

"He is not my child."

"Not by birth, but he carries your cells and thus your legacy, and I can see the maternal feelings you have for him, regardless of his actual parentage. Certainly better, from what I understand, than Sephiroth. To have faced such perils at his age, and come out sane…it's an astonishing feat. And he managed what many would have considered impossible, turning the Calamity from the Skies into a Goddess once more. Well, that wasn't all him, but still…without him and the others beginning to treat you as a person, and not as a monster, would you be here?"

"Probably not," Jenova conceded. "And you are right…I do view him as a son. More of a son to me than Sephiroth. And Voldemort will rue the day that he decided to target him. Prophecy or no prophecy, Voldemort will suffer long before he dies."

Nicholas Flamel, perched next to Jenova in her station, shrugged. "Just warn me before you actually do anything. I'm not really fond of witnessing prolonged torture and suffering, and I'd prefer not to lose my very expensive dinner."

Jenova rolled her eyes. "I might not do that, if only to be entertained by one like you vomiting. It would be amusing."

 _Jenova? We're on the chessboard. Quirrell's using us as chess pieces and directing us_ , Harry's voice came through their mental link.

 _Okay. Keep your wits about you. We know Quirrell will keep you alive until the last chamber if possible. If our suspicions about him are correct, his master's hitching a ride like a tick on a dog._

 _Reminds you of someone, hmm?_ Harry asked, wryly.

Jenova scowled when she realised Harry was having a dig at her expense. After all, not so very long ago, she was forced to live inside his body, and with much the same motives as Voldemort. _Cheeky brat. Just don't provoke Quirrell the way you're provoking me._

 _I'll try not to. My friends' lives are at stake. That bastard is going to try and have my friends kill themselves._

 _If Aerith heard such language, she'd make you wash your mouth out for emulating Cid or Barrett. But you're right. Keeping your friends safe is the priority. I'm in the final chamber with an ally. When you come in, keep him occupied. We need to trap him. Don't worry about the sealing array on the Mirror, it's not keyed to you or to your friends. But it'll take time to activate once he's in range._

 _Okay. Play for time, and then, hopefully, the bad guy gets trapped. By the way, what's Aerith's obstacle?_

Jenova chuckled. _Well…we needed something that was relatively easy when you knew how to. And thanks to Reeve, we knew how to shield electronics from magic. Just after Halloween, Reeve had finished modifying what we wanted, which was a certain something from the Golden Saucer. I forgot, Harry, do you know how to play 'Mog House'?_

* * *

Twenty minutes later, an incoherent howl of rage was emitted by Quirrell. He beat his fists angrily on the white plastic façade of 'Mog House', and it was all Harry could do to keep himself from laughing his head off. He was feeling particularly malicious towards Quirrell, given that Hermione was currently back at the chessboard, unconscious at the very least from a head wound. Said wound had been inflicted during the game, and he had been prevented from going to her aid. Jenova had told him, though, that her other body, along with Aerith and the others, weren't far behind. They were staying at least one room behind them, to make sure Quirrell didn't feel cornered, or else he might do something desperate. He was glad someone was looking after Hermione, and Jenova said that Snape would probably be the best person to remove the curse on Hermione.

"What is this…? I don't even…" Quirrell snarled, before breathing out, trying to calm himself. He had tried and failed to play the game a couple of times already. "How can Muggle electronics work within Hogwarts?"

"Special shielding from ambient magic," Harry replied. The arcade machine was connected to a door. Only by winning the game could it open.

"I was Muggle Studies teacher before I assumed the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts!" Quirrell snarled. "I know Muggles have machines like this, but how could they shield against magic?"

"Maybe you don't know everything about Muggles." A suggestion about how to explain it came from Jenova, one that wasn't quite true. "It's called EM shielding. Electromagnetic shielding. Magic creates an electromagnetic pulse, and that fries electronics."

Quirrell sniffed. "If you know so much about it, you play the damnable thing! And every time you get it wrong, I will have Mr Weasley use the Cruciatus curse on himself!"

Harry scowled, but went over to the arcade machine. He had played this at the Golden Saucer, and new that the trick was to feed Mog five Kupo Nuts the first time, and then three Kupo Nuts the second time. The trick was to listen to Mog. If his belly rumbled, he needed more Kupo Nuts. If he squeaked, he was full.

The game took a while to play through, and Quirrell was getting increasingly impatient. But eventually, the game's credits rolled, and the door opened. Quirrell then used a Blasting Curse on it. The shielding didn't protect it against the blast, turning it into a pile of plastic and metal.

"Ridiculous, conceited thing," Quirrell sneered.

* * *

Thankfully, Quirrell didn't use either him or Ron as guinea pigs for the Potions puzzle. Harry had to admit, Snape did have a way with poetry, and his logic puzzle was good. Harry would have taken a long time to get it, though he was sure that Hermione would have done it swifter than Quirrell.

And then, they were in the chamber where the prize awaited. The Mirror of Erised, and within it, according to Jenova, the Philosopher's Stone.

Quirrell, with a gesture, caused the entrance to the chamber to become wreathed in magical flames. He then snapped his fingers, and Harry was bound in ropes. "There, now we have time until I can get a hold of the Stone."

"For your master," Harry snarled quietly. "Why do you help him?"

A brief spasm of fear crossed Quirrell's features, before he recomposed himself. "Because I was weak. I sought him out because I was seen as weak. And I didn't want to be seen as weak anymore. I was foolish, then. Filled with ridiculous ideas of good and evil. But Lord Voldemort showed me that there is only power, and those who are too weak to seek it…"

"Wrong," Harry said. "It's what you do with power that counts. Do you destroy? Or protect?"

"Be careful with your insolence, Potter, or I might just order Mr Weasley to inflict the Cruciatus Curse on himself," Quirrell sneered. As he turned to the Mirror again, he said, "I am impressed that you even think about such things at a young age. You have the eyes of a soldier. And I know that antediluvian fossil Dumbledore would not have trained you that way. He is altogether too soft, and slow to anger."

"Maybe, but he's still powerful."

Jenova's voice came to him. _Try not to provoke him too much. The sealing array is almost active, but I don't want to risk him commanding Ron to kill himself. I've managed to find Hermione, and I'm unravelling the curse on her, but it's hard work. This bastard's good at what he did. And I don't want to attack him just in case he commands Ron to commit suicide_.

Quirrell merely scoffed. "Nothing, next to my master." He began mumbling to himself as he looked into the Mirror. He could see himself possessing the Stone, but he couldn't get it. "Help me, Master!" he finally cried out.

"Use the boy…" hissed a reply, in a high-pitched rasp of a voice. It seemed to come from Quirrell's turban.

Quirrell whirled to face Harry, undid his ropes with a gesture, and grabbed him roughly, and placed him in front of the mirror. "Now, Potter, tell me what you see…"

Once more, Harry saw himself as a Jenova hybrid, surrounded by family and friends. The reflection, however, smirked, and pulled a blood red stone from his pocket, and then put it back. Harry felt something enter his pocket.

"I see myself surrounded by my friends and by my family," Harry said, making it a lie of omission.

Quirrell shoved him out of the way, only for the voice of Voldemort to speak again. "The boy lies. Quirrell…I want to speak to him…face to face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough…"

"Let me see him," Harry said, coldly. "I want to see the man who killed my parents…and threatened the lives of my friends."

A rasping chuckle sounded from within the turban. Then, Quirrell removed the turban, and turned his head, revealing a grotesque, ophidian face, with dark red eyes.

"Harry Potter…" Voldemort rasped.

"Voldemort…" Harry said, quietly. "It's nice to meet you again…face to face. A nice little Reunion."

Voldemort frowned at the slight emphasis on the word 'reunion'. But he smiled. "So, you see what I have become? Reduced to mere shadow and vapour? I have form only when I share the body of another."

"That must be…inconvenient," Harry said. "But you have plenty of followers. Plenty of people willing to let you hitch a ride."

"Fewer than you'd think," Voldemort hissed. "None of my so-called loyal Death Eaters tried to track me down."

"You can't find the help these days," Harry said, shrugging, emulating a little of Reno's nonchalant attitude.

"True enough. But our discussion can wait. You have the Stone in your pocket. Give it to me."

Harry brought it out, and when his fingers touched it, he frowned. He realised that it felt very familiar. And then, he realised why. "Wait, you mean this? The so-called Philosopher's Stone?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's a couple of reasons why I wouldn't give it to you. One, you murdered my parents, and you want to kill my friends. Two, the Stone is absolutely useless to you, at least as far as gaining immortality is concerned." He brought the Stone to eye-level, a blood-red stone. "This thing won't grant you immortality. It certainly wouldn't grant me immortality. It may be the property of an immortal, but it can't give it to anyone else."

"Cease this foolishness, Potter! You are undertaking another expedition into the realms of duplicity(1)!"

"I am not, Voldemort!" Harry yelled, triumphantly. "There is no Philosopher's Stone! _This is a Summoning Materia!_ "

 **CHAPTER 24 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there it is! The big secret behind the Philosopher's Stone! I'd been considering how it would work since I began thinking about the Philosopher's Stone and what it might actually be. I hope you like this twist.**

 **I was actually struggling to come up with challenges for Jenova and Aerith to place. I decided Jenova would place a guardian monster (like a mini-version of Jenova SYNTHESIS), but it wasn't until the last minute that I came up with the 'Mog's House' idea for Aerith's challenge…and Quirrellmort's reaction to it.**

 **1\. I cribbed this line from the Borad in** ** _Doctor Who: Timelash_** **. It's basically a fancy way of saying 'YOU LIE!'**

 **CHAPTER 24 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Through the Obstacles** **:** ** _Underneath the Rotting Pizza_** **(FTG)**


	26. Chapter 25: Battle for the Stone

**CHAPTER 25:**

 **BATTLE FOR THE STONE**

Harry watched as warring emotions clashed on Voldemort's ophidian face. Denial. Fury. Hatred towards Harry. A smidgen of fear that Harry was right.

And then, a calm voice, with a faint accent, came from behind the Mirror. Harry couldn't help but jump, and he was grimly satisfied to see Quirrell fighting down the same urge. "He _is_ right, you know. Though I was surprised at just how quickly he caught on. But the Cetra Heritage is strong in him, and he has experience of Materia, more than you've ever had, Tom Riddle."

The man who came around from behind the mirror could have been in his early twenties, his noble features framed by white hair. He was dressed in blue-grey robes with white fur trimming. His eyes were a brilliant electric blue, and seemed to be older than the rest of him. His boots made a curious clopping noise as he moved, almost like the hooves of a horse. How he managed to stay silent until now, neither Harry or Voldemort knew. But he moved with an understated grace and poise.

"Nicholas Flamel," Voldemort hissed, having turned Quirrell so that he could see the person interrupting his moment of triumph.

Harry's eyes widened. THIS was Nicholas Flamel, the famous alchemist? This was the man who was supposed to have created the Philosopher's Stone? His surprise was less to do with the immortal man's appearance. After all, he radiated an understated authority that made Dumbledore pale by comparison. The surprise was that Flamel was here, helping guard the Stone, and more than willing to confront Voldemort.

And not only that, but the implications of what Harry held in his hand. If this was not the Philosopher's Stone, but a Summon Materia, then what was Flamel? Was he merely the owner of the Materia?

Or was he its _inhabitant?_

"Indeed, Tom Riddle," Flamel said, clearly enunciating the name. "Or, as you like to be called nowadays, Voldemort. I would say that it is a pleasure to meet a wizard of your power and standing…but it would be a lie."

"Then you have the Stone, the true Stone!" Voldemort snarled. "Give it to me, and not this wretched decoy! Or the Potter brat will be the first to die!"

"You'd kill him anyway, Riddle. Anyway, I wouldn't, even if it did exist," Flamel said, shaking his head. "The Philosopher's Stone, as far as I know, is a complete myth. A myth that had been around for over a millennium before my wife and I used the story(1). We merely used it to disguise our true natures. And while it excited greed of another sort, it gave us a disguise." Electricity crackled around the famous alchemist, and Harry began to get a bad sense of foreboding about the situation. "You desire immortality, Riddle, but immortality can be as bad a prison as any built with stone and steel. Especially if it's irrevocable."

"Words," sneered Voldemort contemptuously. "Mere words and hollow rhetorhic from a relic whose time is long past! I will have immortality, at any price!"

" _THEN YOU SHALL_ _ **HAVE**_ _IT!_ " Flamel roared, before slamming his hands onto the ground. In electric blue, lines and symbols appeared on the ground. A circle of light suddenly appeared around Quirrell, in front of the Mirror. Like a fly in amber, Voldemort and his puppet were trapped, the pair of them screaming in pain. Within the Mirror, a similar symbol-laden circle faded into existence, pulsing with cyan light.

"At _any_ price, you say, you would-be god?!" Flamel bellowed as he seemed to push more energy into the trap. "You pay in other people's coin, Tom Riddle! Coin that never belonged to you! You pay in their blood, their souls, their very lives! You've never had to pay for your power yourself, but that changes today! You will have the immortality you deserve, a living death, in perpetual agony!"

For a moment, Harry allowed himself to hope, to dream that this was over. That Voldemort was being imprisoned, being _killed_ before his eyes! That the scream emanating from Voldemort's now grotesquely distended mouth would be his death scream, the last noise he would ever make. A nightmarish noise, but one that would ironically herald the end of a nightmare.

But with a grimace, Quirrell made a gesture, and the cylinder of light around him shattered like glass. He didn't come out unscathed, though. Open wounds oozed blood, and Quirrell looked like he had some exotic disease with all those suppurating wounds. Breathing heavily, Voldemort hissed, "You almost had me, Flamel. But to use a Muggle term, there are no prizes for second place. Weasley! Kill yourself now!"

"Yes, Lord Voldemort," Ron said in a dull tone of voice, before aiming his wand at his neck. Harry rushed over, and grabbed Ron's wand, but Ron said, " _Reducto!_ " Harry felt the warm splatter of Ron's blood gushing onto his hands, and screamed. Despite preventing his friend from severing his head, Ron had still managed to slice open his neck, and the redhead collapsed to the ground, blood rushing out of his body.

"Damn you!" Flamel snarled, before putting his hands in the air. Spinning disks of energy formed and coalesced. "AEROSPARK!" Flamel yelled, hurling the discs at Quirrell.

But to no avail. Quirrell caught the discs with a contemptuous sneer. "Is this the best you can do?" he retorted, before hurling them back at Flamel. But then, he found himself surprised as Harry, with a scream of fury, launched himself at Quirrell, a wing protruding from his back, his hair now silvery, and his eyes reptilian and filled with hatred.

Quirrell was sent into the wall, where Harry punched him. Harry was surprised when his punch seemed to do more than bruise Quirrell: it seemed to be burning his face!

Quirrell screamed in pain, but he retained enough presence of mind to activate the Materia. "Shadow Flare!"

Harry screamed as he was flung away, his body seeming to flare from positive to negative. He landed next to Ron's body.

"Pitiful," Voldemort sneered.

"I couldn't agree more," hissed the venomous voice of Jenova in his ear. Suddenly, Quirrell and Voldemort screamed in pain simultaneously as Jenova, using an arm transfigured into a blade, chopped off Quirrell's own arm. "Harry! Here!" she yelled, throwing Harry the severed arm. She was then thrust into the wall by Voldemort.

Harry stared dumbfoundedly at the severed limb. What was he supposed to do with it?

"THOR'S HAMMER!" Flamel cried out, a massive bolt of electricity from his hand sending Voldemort into the wall. But even as Quirrell's body began to crumble into ashes, Voldemort's spirit began to rise from it, a cloud of vile, black smoke with an ophidian face snarling on it.

 _Harry! Stop gawping! Get the Materia off the arm!_ Jenova shouted in Harry's head through their mental link. _Use Phoenix! It's the only way to save Ron!_

Harry's eyes widened, and he scrambled to pluck the bangle, his bangle, stolen by Voldemort, from Quirrell's severed arm. That's what Jenova meant. If he got this right, he could save Ron! Phoenix could revive the newly dead!

He managed to put the bangle on even as Voldemort's spirit began to swoop down on him. " _Your long-overdue death is nigh, Potter!_ " Voldemort shrieked angrily.

Just as Voldemort was about to hit Harry, the Boy Who Lived touched the Summon Materia on the bangle, and screamed, in desperation and fury, "REBIRTH FLAME!"

In a flare of fire and flame, a magnificent bird of many colours appeared. The shade of Voldemort paused, briefly, stunned at this phoenix, even larger and more magnificent than Fawkes. Even Jenova and Flamel stopped and stared.

With a shriek of fury, Phoenix filled the room with flame. Only Voldemort was affected, screaming in agony as the smoke-like spirit he had become burned.

A red light, seemingly filled with feathers from the magnificent bird, suffused the blood-soaked body of Ron Weasley. His wounds healed up, his pale skin gained life again, and suddenly, he was on his hands and knees, staring at his own blood. He was understandably perturbed at what he had just experienced. Harry wasn't sure what dying was like, but he didn't intend to find out. He had already been through a number of horrific experiences anyway.

Voldemort, however, broke free of the flames, fleeing out of the chamber with shrieks of pain and fury…and even fear.

Flamel, looking upon the colourful bird with awe, said, quietly, "Lord Phoenix…your presence here is timely and welcome."

In a high-pitched, androgynous voice, Phoenix said, " _Well met too, Lord Ixion. It has been long since we last saw you and Lady Valefor. Unfortunately, there is little time for a reunion. Fare thee well, Lord Ixion._ " Then, Phoenix faded in another flare of flame.

Ron panted, looking around, before his terrified eyes turned to Harry. "Bloody hell, Harry, I thought I was a goner there."

"Are you all right, Ron?" Harry demanded.

"Not really. I bloody well _died!_ " Ron yelped. "I could watch what was going on, but not do a thing to stop it! And that was You-Know-Who! You-Know-Bloody-Who! And not even Nicholas Flamel could stop him…" He blinked, and then looked at the famous alchemist. "Wait a moment…that Phoenix summon…it called you Lord Ixion."

"Indeed."

"But I thought your name was Nicholas Flamel," Ron said, confused.

"And I said my name was Jen Calamitas," Jenova said, "but that wasn't my real name."

"Jenova is right," Flamel said. "Flamel is the name I've gone by for several centuries. I adopted it from my last master. I forgot the name I was born under. But the name I have gone by for over a millennia before I became Flamel was Ixion. I will explain in due course."

The flames blocking the passage back into the obstacles and traps suddenly dissipated, and Aerith, another Jenova, Hermione, and the House Heads, save for Sprout, rushed in. Not long after, Fawkes and Dumbledore appeared in a burst of flame. Cait Sith was last to appear, scrambling in. Aerith was on Harry in a heartbeat. "Harry! Are you okay? Whose blood is this?"

"It was Ron's. Aerith, he's okay, I used Phoenix's Rebirth Flame. Voldemort had him under a spell, had him kill himself."

Aerith looked at the redhead, and paled. Snape, meanwhile, bustled over. "Sit still, Weasley. I need to make sure the curse the Dark Lord used on you is gone."

Ron scowled, but let the Potions Master do his work. Hermione looked aghast at the pool of blood under Ron, and covering Harry's hands. She didn't even comment on Harry looking like Sephiroth.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, Ron and Hermione, and noting that they were okay, walked over to Flamel. "Nicholas…please tell me we managed to get him! Did we manage to trap Voldemort?"

Flamel shook his head. "He managed to break free of the seal array. I doubt he will fall for such a trap again." He walked over to Quirrell's body, sniffed it, and snarled in disgust. "Unicorn's blood. It boosted his magical powers to a ludicrous degree. That, and…" His eyes widened, and he smashed his fist into a wall, causing it to crack. "Albus, his means of immortality…they probably helped anchor him to a degree so that he wouldn't get pulled into the seal(2)! I should have factored more power into the sealing array!"

"We'll discuss this later, Nicholas…" Dumbledore said, quietly. "But you don't think we'll have another chance at doing something like this?"

Flamel shook his head. "Even if I did do a new sealing array designed to counteract what happened, he'll know to have countermeasures himself. He's no fool, Albus. We've missed our best chance at entrapping that excremental bastard." His eyes flickered over to where Harry and Hermione were consoling Ron. "Harry Potter is indeed a most extraordinary boy. The Mirror marked him as worthy of receiving my Materia. I'm sure my wife will agree. And if what Jenova suspects is true, then he will need our assistance, both here and back on Gaia."

Dumbledore nodded as he levitated Quirrell's corpse, ready to give what was left of the man as dignified a funeral as Dumbledore could grant him. "I am an old fool, Nicholas. And my mistakes nearly cost my students their lives. I hope that I can rectify that before long. Let's get them out of here. You can explain everything once we have them in the Hospital Wing and being looked after."

Flamel nodded, and they followed the three children, the staff members, and the cat robot out of the Mirror room. Almost as an afterthought, Flamel, with a gesture, shrunk the Mirror, and placed it in his robes. There was no use for it now…

 **CHAPTER 25 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it: the revelation of who Flamel really is (I will explain how Ixion became Flamel in the next chapter, the first chapter of the final episode), the battle against Voldemort, and a really close call for Ron. You may have to wait a while for the final episode to be posted, but hopefully, this episode will have been worth the wait for you guys, and it's all over bar the shouting anyway. I'm still impressed by the fact that this story has 10K views now. This story is my third most popular in terms of views, beaten only by the first story in this series,** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **, and my only 'pure' Harry Potter fanfic,** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **.**

 **I actually had a bit of** ** _Fullmetal Alchemist_** **running through my head as I wrote the bit where Flamel activated the sealing array. I also had a notion, as I was writing this chapter, that Flamel (in this) would be excellent if he was voiced by Simon Templeman of** ** _Legacy of Kain_** **fame.**

 **I've also recently seen Team Four Star's debut episodes of** ** _Final Fantasy VII Machinabridged_** **. If you're a fan of** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **, but are not afraid to see the mickey taken out of it, watch it. The first episode is available on YouTube, while the first two episodes are on Team Four Star's website. I have literally not laughed as hard as I did watching it for a long time, so I recommend not eating or drinking while watching it, lest you like either choking, or else spraying liquid all over your computer.**

 **In case any of you are** ** _Naruto_** **fans, I'd like to give a shout out to my one and probably only** ** _Naruto_** **fanfic,** ** _Observations of a Wannabe Kunoichi_** **. It's Sakura-centric with little bashing, though, so it may not be for everyone.**

 **Review answering time. God, I have a lot to catch up on. Firstly,** **Goeno** **, who posted reviews on** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **: Thanks for your enthusiasm. But shouldn't it be 'the cut of my gib' rather than my 'gizzard'? Still, I'm glad you like what I wrote.**

 **Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros** **: Thanks again for your enthusiastic reviews. I hadn't thought about Rufus reviving the Shinra space program. Let's assume that, for satellites at least, he has done so. Once they've stabilised the world's infrastructure, he'll get onto space exploration. Cid will doubtless be pleased.**

 **Blackholelord** **: If you mean** ** _Advent Children_** **, then yes. Assuming I get the motivation to get that far. I do intend to write a story set between this one and the events of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **, but I have burnt myself out with this story, and I may not write my version of** ** _The Chamber of Secrets_** **. Certainly not for a long period of time.**

 **Jostanos** **: Yes, you did pull a Hagrid, though whether I get that far in my writing is another matter.**

 **BoredomPersonified** **: In answer to your questions…**

 **1\. I have no idea how to tier the Limit Breaks of Harry and Jenova, so I can't answer that question.**

 **2\. Hojo is Sephiroth's father in canon. Sephiroth probably shares more features with his mothers (Lucrezia and Jenova) than Hojo.**

 **Thanks anyway for your praise.**

 **Now for the numbered annotations…**

 **1\. According to Wikipedia, stories of the Philosopher's Stone have been around since at least about 300 AD, when Zosimos (doesn't that sound like an adversary's name from a Final Fantasy game?) of Panopolis wrote about it in his Cheirokmeta. Flamel is stated to be over six hundred years old in the book.**

 **2\. Note that Flamel isn't discussing the Horcruxes openly (or at least by name) in front of the others. Like Dumbledore, he believes that the fewer people know about them, the better, if only to prevent Voldemort from using Legilimency on them.**

 **CHAPTER 25 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Nicholas Flamel** **:** ** _The Hymn of the Fayth, Ixion Version_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy X_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu et al.**

 **A Fight to the Death** **:** ** _Memories of the World_** **(aka** ** _The Fierce Battle, Final Fantasy Fables Chocobo's Dungeon_** **version), originally from** ** _Final Fantasy VI_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by Yuzo Takahashi.**


	27. Chapter 26: Ixion's Story

**EPISODE 6:**

 **AFTERMATH**

 _Like the legend of the Phoenix_

 _All ends with beginnings_

 _What keeps the planets spinning (uh)_

 _The force from the beginning…_

 _-from_ Get Lucky, _by Daft Punk_

 **CHAPTER 26:**

 **IXION'S STORY**

Hermione, Harry, and Ron were all being checked out in the Hospital Wing by Aerith, Pomfrey, and Snape. A formidable trio who wouldn't accept any excuses of backchat, even the sweet-natured Aerith. Save for McGonagall, the other Hogwarts staff members had gone back to bed. Cait Sith was perched on Jenova's shoulders, while Dumbledore and Flamel discussed something quietly in a corner.

Ron was easily the most shaken by the experience. He had, after all, been dead, even if it was for a short period of time, and he had come face to face with Voldemort shortly before that. Hermione was also shaken: like Ron, she had been conscious when under the spell Voldemort had cast on them. Nothing like a bit of mental rape and the inability to help their friend to cause some psychological trauma.

Ironically enough, the one holding up best was Harry. He had changed back into his usual self, the Jenova-caused features fading away. He was aching somewhat from the after-effects of Voldemort using Shadow Flare on him, but he had been healed of the actual damage. The battle itself wasn't as hard, nowhere near the battles against Sephiroth. If anything, he was more worried about his friends than himself: they had been controlled by Voldemort and used against him.

Thankfully, both Ron and Hermione were free from the curse, Snape declared. Jenova had helped him remove it from Hermione, and it seemed that when Ron died, the curse died with him, and didn't come back when he was revived.

Flamel finished his discussion with Dumbledore, and then walked over to them. "I daresay you three have many questions. Please, allow me to speak, and you will get most of them answered before you ask them."

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and then nodded. Hermione frowned. She had been told by Harry and Ron that Flamel wasn't human, that he was a Summon, called Ixion. But if Flamel was willing to tell them, then she would listen, and have to wait until she could ask questions.

Soon, Flamel began to tell his story. And what a story it was…

* * *

Long ago, there was a world called Spira. And one day, it was consumed by war, a war between two city states, Bevelle, and Zanarkand. Bevelle used great war machines, or _machina_ , while Zanarkand had powerful summoners, mages who could summon powerful magical beasts. As the war began to draw to a close, Zanarkand was close to losing, so a last-ditch effort was conceived to save them.

The population of Zanarkand were changed into special statues known as Fayth. The purpose of this was towfold. The first was to preserve what was left of Zanarkand in a dream state of the city's prime, the populace in a dream of the city at its peak. The second was to use them as a means of empowering their greatest summoner, Yu Yevon, with the ability to stop Bevelle, by turning him into a vast summon creature, Sin.

Yu Yevon, cloaked in Sin, won the war against Bevelle, but at a high price: his humanity died, and Sin became little more than a rampaging monster, one sustained by the Fayth of the people of Zanarkand. Yu Yevon's daughter, Yunalesca, and her consort, Zaon, found a way to quell Sin temporarily, with Zaon becoming an extremely powerful Aeon or summon creature. Zaon and Yunalesca perished, but Yunalesca came back to life as a revenant known as an Unsent, and, upon learning that Sin would always come back, possessing the Aeon of the one who vanquished it, Yunalesca decided to make this the penance of the people of Spira, and of Bevelle in particular, helping to found the Yevon religion, banning most sophisticated machinery, save for a few examples.

Centuries passed, with many Fayth being created. Ixion was merely one, a man who volunteered to become a Fayth in the Djose Temple. Many of the summons Harry had become familiar with had their origins as Fayth on Spira: Ifrit, Shiva, and Bahamut. And they weren't the only ones. There were others, like Valefor, Yojimbo, the Magus Sisters, and Anima. But the Fayth began to despair of the situation on Spira. They knew that Yevon and Yunalesca had been corrupted, that they falsely believed that appeasing Sin was better than destroying it outright. Of course, neither the authorities of the Yevon religion nor Yunalesca believed that Sin could be destroyed. The Fayth behind the Aeons knew that there was a way: destroy every Aeon and every Fayth after destroying the essence of Yu Yevon within Sin.

It was the Fayth of Bahamut (ironically, the massive dragon king was a young boy when he became a Fayth) who set events into motion, albeit as the result of an accident. Somehow, one of the citizens of the Dream Zanarkand crossed over into reality, an arrogant Blitzball player by the name of Jecht. When he made the pilgrimage along with a summoner called Braska and a disgraced warrior called Auron, his new perspective on events in Spira gave the Fayth hope they hadn't had in a long time. Jecht was the one to volunteer to become the latest so-called Final Aeon, and Braska died. Auron died too, after confronting Yunalesca over her lies. But he also became an Unsent, and with the help of what was left of Jecht's consciousness within Sin, collaborated with Bahamut's Fayth to begin the process of stopping Sin forever, even if it meant that the Fayth, and Dream Zanarkand, would perish with it.

What eventuated was a complicated series of events. The son of Jecht, Tidus, was drawn by Auron and Sin into Spira, just as Braska's daughter, Yuna, was about to begin her own pilgrimage to stop Sin. Along with Auron and a group of other travellers, they embarked on their voyage, with many events happening along the way. When they found Yunalesca, and learned the truth behind the futility of what was happening, they decided to try and destroy Yunalesca, and thus the only means of creating a new Final Aeon. After a bitter struggle, they succeeded. But Tidus soon learned what he truly was, little more than a dream brought into physical existence. He was willing to fade away, as long as Sin was destroyed for good.

Spira was saved from Sin, but at a high price: the Fayth were destroyed, their essence scattered to the winds. Tidus faded away, though a couple of years later, what remained of the Fayth were able to bring him back into existence(1).

The essences of the Fayth may have been scattered, but they found themselves unable to perish, instead, their essences ending up on many a world. They became summon creatures once more, Espers and Eidolons, creatures at the beck and call of powerful summons. The Planet was only one of the worlds where the seeds of their essence had settled.

Ixion and Valefor were amongst those whose Summoning Materia had been taken during the Cetra Exodus across to Earth. And there, they went from master to master…until they fell into the hands of one Nicholas Flamel, and his wife, Perenelle.

The Flamels were different for the time. They were quite forward-seeing for magic users, and they were amongst the few who, by this point, had any accurate knowledge of the Cetra Heritage. They also treated magical creatures with an attitude that would be liberal even now, and summons were no exception. Ixion and Valefor found it refreshing to speak to mortals who treated them like members of the family, rather than as (at best) servants. And the four of them shared an impish sense of humour, a love of pranks both vulgar and sophisticated.

As the years went on, however, the Flamels began to worry about their charges' futures. And their experiments in alchemy, and creating the fabled Philosopher's Stone, had failed. But the Flamels hit upon an idea, the greatest prank of all time, and one that would conceal Ixion and Valefor's true nature for centuries to come. They deliberately spread rumours that they had found the Philosopher's Stone, and soon, Ixion and Valefor, having changed their appearances to match younger versions of their masters, were seen publicly.

The real Nicholas Flamel died in 1418, his wife having died in 1397(2). Despite this, the Magical World believed that these were faked deaths, as Ixion and Valefor still appeared in public under their human guises. Of course, their Summon Materia had to be concealed, for even the cover story of the Philosopher's Stone led many to covet it…

* * *

"…leading us, in a roundabout way, to here," Flamel concluded.

Those present gaped at each other, save for Jenova and Dumbledore. In fact, Jenova had an amused look on her face. "I remember you and your wife. I know you were brought out to fight me when I first arrived on the Planet. I remember the sting of Thor's Hammer, and your wife's Energy Ray." Jenova chuckled. "Oh, how the times have changed. I'm now on the side of the angels, even if I couldn't exactly be called one(3), while you've been masquerading as a human."

"Wait…" Hermione mused. "So you and your wife are Summon beings? But you said you were once human. But you come from another world."

"Indeed. Spira does not belong to the same dimension as either the Planet or Earth, but are parallel worlds, each with human beings on them. Our essences, our souls if you will, were trapped in the Fayth statues. Willingly, at least at first…until we saw the cycle on Spira continue, _ad nauseum_. Ifrit, Shiva, Bahamut, they all originated on Spira. Other summons came from elsewhere. It is my belief that our names were all that spread to this world: here, my name is associated with a rather unflattering fellow from Greek myth. Of course, I am both more, and less, than human now. I don't even remember what I looked like before I became a Fayth. My essence is bound forever to the Materia Harry now has with him, the stone I led others to believe was the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry looked down at the blood-red crystal. For a moment, he contemplated the sanguine orb, before reaching it over to Flamel. "You should have it back, sir. It's yours."

Flamel's response was certainly unexpected. He laughed, a deep, uproarious sound. "I remember when Nicholas tried the same thing. 'This contains your very essence, Lord Ixion, therefore, it is your possession, and nobody else's.' A rare man, who believes a Summon to be worthy of keeping his own focus, to be treated as a person, as family and friend. And my response to you, Harry Gainsborough, is more or less the same as I said to him."

"Which was what?"

"I _choose_ to accompany you, Harry. You are powerful and battle-hardened even for your age, but you are still a child, especially compared to one such as myself. Your trials on this world are far from over, given that Voldemort has managed to escape, and I doubt that your travails on the Planet are over, either. I will not be your servant or slave, Harry Gainsborough, and I am sure that you wouldn't want to think of me as such. But I willingly will accompany you, as a comrade-in-arms, as an ally. You already have many, and many friends. But I am sure you can allow for more." Flamel looked at Ron and Hermione. "I'm sorry that you two have gotten drawn into this. But as long as Voldemort lives, he will not cease to attack Harry, nor will he not try to hurt or kill you two. That you both survived was partially down to luck. You are young to learn such true peril facing you two. But this is what you face if you continue to be Harry's friend."

Hermione glared up at Flamel. "What do you mean, **_if?!_** "

Ron nodded. He looked miserable, and scared, but he said, "My family were always in You-Know-Who's black books. My dad supports pro-Muggle legislation in the Wizengamot. I'm scared, I don't think anyone wouldn't be unless they were barmy…but I'm not running away from Harry!"

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "I'm proud of you, Mr Weasley. People all too frequently think that bravery is acting without fear, when in truth, bravery and courage is when you act in _spite_ of your fear. Your parents feared Voldemort, and so too did Harry's parents. We all did, we would be fools not to. Miss Gainsborough, Jenova, Cait Sith and Harry were also afraid of Sephiroth, but they fought him despite this fear, because they knew the alternative was to be feared even more. It is the paralysing effects of fear that people like Sephiroth and Voldemort exploit, effects that should be resisted. One should be cautious against beings of their power, true, and prudent. But just as there is a difference between courage and recklessness…"

"Something many Gryffindors fail to remember," Snape remarked archly.

" _Ahem_. Just as there is a difference between courage and recklessness, there is a difference between fear and cowardice. Fear is a useful emotion. But it is when it overwhelms us, when it drowns us, that it turns to cowardice." He looked at the three students. "I am proud of the three of you. Despite the fact that we have failed to trap Voldemort, we have set him back significantly. Nicholas tells me that we have drained a significant portion of his power, and it will be some time before he re-emerges, so we have bought some time. Not much, but hopefully, a bit of a breather, as they say."

"We didn't do anything!" Hermione protested.

"Not true. Harry fought to keep you safe and alive, buying time so that we could get ready. Even before then, you went to Harry's aid on more than one occasion. Before he went to the Planet, Harry had no friends, and his family were unpleasant. 'The worst kind of Muggles', I believe Minerva told me, and while that was something of an exaggeration, it had more than a grain of truth. That he has you two is cause enough for celebration. And you also figured out about the Philosopher's Stone, Miss Granger. Even if the truth was somewhat different…"

Ron sighed. "Well, I'll tell you one thing. If I go through something like that again, it'll be too soon!"

Harry couldn't help but agree. That being said, he also knew that it was more than likely that, while this particular misadventure had ended, this was far from his last…

 **CHAPTER 26 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it. I've managed to tie in the story of** ** _Final Fantasy X_** **, as well as tie it to** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **.**

 **I'd also like to give a shout out to one of my readers, jgkitarel, for actually posting** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **as part of the** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **Fanfic Recommendations page on TV Tropes! Woohoo! Thanks a lot, jgkitarel! It's been a minor ambition of mine to have my fanfics mentioned on TV Tropes. Hell, it's gotten to the point where I've punched in keywords into the TV Tropes search engine every now and then to see if anything had turned up. God, I'm pathetic. ;)**

 **1\. I've probably spoiled, albeit in very broad strokes, the stories of** ** _Final Fantasy X_** **and** ** _Final Fantasy X-2_** **.**

 **2\. These are the actual years the real Flamels were supposed to have died.**

 **3\. I paraphrased Sherlock Holmes' line to Moriarty towards the end of** ** _Sherlock: The Reichenbach Fall_** **.**

 **CHAPTER 26 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Ixion's Story** **:** ** _To Zanarkand_** **, from** ** _Final Fantasy X_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu.**


	28. Chapter 27: A Small Triumph

**CHAPTER 27:**

 **A SMALL TRIUMPH**

The rest of the school year, thankfully, was relatively uneventful. Rumours began spreading about Harry, Ron, and Hermione being involved in trying to stop Quirrel from stealing the Philosopher's Stone. For good or ill, Voldemort was never mentioned, and it was probably good that Flamel's true identity was never discussed, though he and his wife, a beautiful woman with a magnificent mane of red hair, were seen publicly in the school.

Hagrid was, understandably, somewhat inconsolable when he learned of the demise of Fluffy. While Harry privately thought that Fluffy was very much a danger to students, he also knew how attached the giant man was to the Cerberus. The 'Golden Quartet', as Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione became known, along with the Weasley twins, Aerith, Jenova and Cait Sith, were frequent weekend visitors to Hagrid's hut, keeping the man company.

On less frequent occasions, Harry, Aerith, and Jenova took tea with Snape. The relationship between Snape and Harry was growing more positive. Snape could never completely let go of the grudge against James Potter and the Marauders, but he was now beginning to see Harry as his own person, even if his comments about Gryffindors and his continuing attitude to Neville (albeit lessened) was still a problem. Deep beneath the dark, acerbic and bitter man was a man who yearned to learn new things and experience new things, and whose loyalty to his few actual friends was as strong as any Hufflepuff. And a man of not inconsiderable bravery, considering his time as a spy within the Death Eaters. He also didn't begrudge Jenova for teaching DADA, partly because Jenova actually consulted with him for help. His main annoyance with Harry was that, thanks to his performance in the Quidditch Cup, as well as his ability to avoid losing House points, meant that Slytherin was about to lose its winning streak for the House Cup! And to Gryffindor, which was especially appalling! Jenova's response was a sarcastic, " _Oh no, what a tragedy_ ", delivered in a flat, deadpan monotone.

* * *

For the rest of the year, Jenova taught the DADA classes singlehandedly. While somewhat intimidating and certainly unconventional, Jenova's qualities as a teacher were undisputed, even by the vast majority of the Slytherins (with only the core of the Potter-baiters, including Malfoy, being the main holdouts). DADA teaching had been, understandably, spotty over the decades, since the supposed curse was first placed. Dumbledore confided to Jenova that he couldn't promote her from assistant to teacher, because he didn't want to risk losing her to the curse.

He did have someone in mind as a replacement DADA teacher, though. Already, he was putting out tentative feelers for interested parties. Only one seemed to be truly enthusiastic: one Gilderoy Lockhart, and Dumbledore had been making plans about him for some time. A former, prominent alumnus of Hogwarts, Lockhart had made something of a name for himself as a monster-hunter and adventurer, but Dumbledore suspected strongly that many, if not all, of the man's exploits were taken from those of other wizards and witches. He personally knew two of them, who had somehow forgotten their own exploits. Dumbledore suspected a Memory Charm was at work. It was one of the few things he had been particularly good at: the man's skills were largely devoted to fuelling his own narcissism.

Dumbledore's word had some weight, but Gilderoy Lockhart was one of those people whom it would be hard to disprove, if only because he had oodles of fame and money, and would take umbrage to any perceived slight. Instead, Dumbledore intended to manoeuvre Lockhart into a position where his fraudulence would be exposed, and given Quirrel's unfortunate fate, he now had the opportunity. And with Jenova being the assistant teacher, he needn't worry about the quality of the education going down. She could pick up the slack, of which there would be a considerable length, if Dumbledore was any judge.

Bringing down a fraud did have a certain appeal to Jenova, although she pouted when Dumbledore said that she couldn't eat him. " _You're no fun at all_ ," she had groaned. She had then looked at the picture of the immaculately-coiffed Lockhart, and remarked, sardonically, " _Probably just as well, though. With all those hair-care products he obviously squanders his money on, I'd get a bad case of indigestion._ "

Despite the macabre nature of the joke, Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

During the lead-up to the end of year exams, Hermione had worked Ron and Harry like a slave-driver, though she was considerably more gentle with Neville. And while Harry was grateful for some of the help, he was also intelligent enough to get by on his own. Especially now he was free from the pressure to underachieve that the Dursleys had put him through. Hermione meant well, and she did dial it back when Harry pointed out she was getting back to her more bossy habits. She still tested them on their knowledge on a frequent basis.

The Weasley twins were awestruck when Harry discussed the Marauders with them. They were astonished to learn that he was the son of James 'Prongs' Potter, that Sirius Black was Padfoot, and Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail. They hadn't actually met Lupin, but Harry told them about Moony, though he was coy on what Animagus form Lupin took (namely because he was a werewolf instead of an Animagus, not that Harry was going to tell them that). They showed him the Marauder's Map, and Harry resolved to introduce the twins to Sirius and Remus. He'd love to see how they'd, in Jenova's words, 'fanboy out'.

The biggest fly in the ointment, then, was Malfoy being a dingus. He hadn't forgotten his defeat at Harry's hands in the duel earlier in the school year, and it seemed he wouldn't forgive it. He seemed (barely) content to restrict himself to snide remarks and scarcely-veiled provocations, to which Harry rarely responded. Verbally, anyway. Occasionally, however, he'd let his hair and eyes transform, and gave him a cold, calm glare even Sephiroth would have been proud of. On a couple of occasions, he even let the wing sprout from his back. That was enough to get Malfoy to back off, though not without calling him a freak, something that Harry was going to give Malfoy a beatdown for, sooner or later.

* * *

The exams came and went, with Harry and his friends relieved that it was over. Not only that, but the result of the last Quidditch match Harry played in not only guaranteed the Quidditch Cup, but also the House Cup would fall to Gryffindor for the first time in a long time. Snape wasn't happy, but he took consolation in the fact that Slytherin's winning streak had been the longest it had been for a long time. And while she did shoot triumphant glances at Snape, McGonagall was certainly more gracious in victory than Snape had ever been.

Oliver Wood was ecstatic, having won the Quidditch Cup for the first time, and in his fifth year. He could die happy now, though he wouldn't say no to another Cup or two won.

It was a relatively small triumph, Harry knew, compared to what had happened. They had failed to trap Voldemort, and it had nearly cost the lives of two of his friends. Luckily for Hermione, she only ended up with a minor concussion, while Ron was fortunate that Harry used the Phoenix Materia in time.

For Harry, it was a sobering experience. For his friends, even more so. They had barely survived an encounter with the most evil wizard in this world, or at least the most prominent evil wizard. But they had grown stronger, and they all celebrated at the end-of-year feast. They had to celebrate the triumphs they did have.

Afterwards, they received their marks. Of course, Hermione was top of the class. Harry was surprised at how good his marks had been. Neville managed to get a barely passable grade in Potions, but Herbology more than made up for it.

* * *

On the train home, the Golden Quartet sat with Jenova and Aerith, Cait Sith sitting in Hermione's lap. "You know…" Hermione said, "when I'm on holidays, my parents usually take me abroad. But…I'd love to see another world, like the Planet."

Aerith and Jenova shared a look, before Aerith smiled. "I'll see what I can do. We'll be staying around on this world for a few days before we leave. Your parents will be at King's Cross, won't they?"

Hermione nodded. "Do you want to talk to them?"

"Sure. We need to arrange for them to be able to travel to the Planet, but…have you mentioned it to them at all?"

"Yes, I did. I mentioned in my letters. I also told them it was amongst the secret stuff they'd have to be quiet about and all that. I didn't tell them about you, Jenova. I said you were an alien, but not an ancient monster who was once a goddess." Hermione sighed. "I didn't tell them about the troll, or Voldemort either. Please don't. They might want to withdraw me from Hogwarts."

"My lips are sealed," Jenova purred.

* * *

Dan and Emma Granger(1) were surprisingly amenable to a holiday on another world. Having a daughter who had magic had pretty much redefined the boundaries of the possible, and besides, Emma Granger was a science fiction nut, and so could accept the concept of another world in a parallel universe far more easily than the existence of magic.

Arrangements were made for the Grangers to come to the Burrow in a few days time. They would tell their friends that they would be travelling to a place where they had few phones. Neville Longbottom was also going to ask his grandmother to come, while Ron, the twins, and Ginny were planning to make the trip over, with Lupin (who was helping with the arrangements) assuring Molly that he would chaperone them to the best of his abilities. Luna also decided that she wanted to come to the Planet, with her father deciding to take a holiday, as well as the opportunity to document life on the Planet (and hoping that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack was actually a creature from the Planet).

The Flamels would also make the trip from the Burrow. It was time for them to disappear into myth and legend on Earth, they decided, and to make a new life on the Planet. Even Snape thought it was time for a holiday: he was bored of spending much of his off-time in Hogwarts as well as his home at Spinner's End. The Planet had opened up possibilities for him to potentially enjoy himself for a break. Sirius and Lupin were also heading back to the Planet, and Sirius, having gotten his family money back, was looking to buy a permanent residence on the Planet: he had his eye on a beachside villa in Costa del Sol that had once belonged to President Shinra. Lupin also was looking to set up home on the Planet, and while reluctant to accept Sirius' charity, he did so anyway.

Before the trip back to the Planet, however, Harry had one last errand to run the next day. Well, not so much an errand as a much-needed expurgation. Jenova and Aerith wondered why he wanted to at first, until they realised he wanted to lay to rest at least one ghost from the past.

* * *

The houses were uniform, even dreary, despite being superficially cheery. Jenova detested it. Aerith merely thought it bland. Cait Sith joked about them cloning houses in a vat. Harry's expression was carefully schooled. Once, he had called this place home, even if only of a sort. But now, it was just a place. A place that he had come to to bury part of the past.

"Are you ready to do this?" Aerith asked.

Harry sighed quietly. "As ready as I ever will be. And Jenova…please refrain from eating anyone, even if they annoy us."

"You and the old goat are just the biggest killjoys in the world, you know that?" Jenova complained with a sigh. "Besides, I've never eaten a horse, or a walrus."

Aerith facepalmed. "No cannibalism during the catharsis, Jenova. _Please_."

Jenova pouted, but behaved as they walked up to the door. For a moment, Harry hesitated, before he knocked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Not long afterwards, the door opened, and a thin, gawky woman with equine features peered out, only to have her eyes widen upon seeing the three people and the cat robot present. "Y-y-you…"

"Hello, Aunt Petunia. May we come in?" Harry asked.

 **CHAPTER 27 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, here we are, wrapping up the school year at Hogwarts, as well as laying the groundwork for the next interquel,** ** _Holiday_** **. The next chapter will be Harry and Aunt Petunia saying one last farewell.**

 **1\. I like this fan convention of naming the Grangers after the first names of Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson. So I thought I'd keep it going.**

 **CHAPTER 27 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **Arrival Back at King's Cross** **:** ** _Holding My Thoughts in My Heart_** **(FTG)**


	29. Chapter 28: Au Revoir

**CHAPTER 28:**

 **AU REVOIR**

After a moment of standing in the doorway astonished, Petunia ushered them in. Dudley was not due back from Smeltings until later, and neither was Vernon from Grunnings. In fact, Vernon was picking Dudley up later this very afternoon.

"So…" Petunia said, looking at the two women. "Are you his new family?"

"I'm his adopted sister, Aerith Gainsborough. And this is Jenova, a friend, of sorts," Aerith said.

Jenova gave a bow and a grin that superficially looked friendly, but had the air of a vampire about to go for one's throat.

"And this is Cait Sith," Aerith said, indicating the cat in her arms. "He's a robot rather than a magical construct."

Petunia blinked. Still, compared to magic, a cat robot was, while bizarre, still normal… _ish_. So she went to the kitchen. "Do you take tea?" she asked, desperately trying to find solace in the act of making tea. Harry remembered the times he was made to make the tea for Petunia and Vernon. It was strange to see Petunia bustle about with the same sort of industry. In a way, he couldn't help but pity her.

"Yes, please. Milk, no sugar for me, please, while Jenova would like it dark with two sugars." Aerith smiled reassuringly.

"And what about you, Harry?" Petunia asked.

The first time that Petunia, his aunt, had ever asked him what he would like to have, Harry realised. Eventually, Harry said, "Just milk and one sugar, please."

Petunia nodded. Harry realised she had a rather resigned, even lugubrious look to her face. She had _regrets_ , he realised with a start. And while he believed that it was too late for that sort of thing, he still felt pity towards his aunt, even regrets of his own, regrets that she had never gotten over the envy she had felt towards her sister and her magic. Regrets that they were never a true family. Regrets that they never would be. Not now.

As the kettle was put on the boil, Petunia asked, "Where did you go to, Harry? Dumbledore didn't say, only that it was far away. I would say America, judging by your sister's accent…but something tells me otherwise."

Aerith, Jenova, and Harry shared a look, before Jenova nodded. Harry then said, "Another world entirely. My magic sent me there that night. It's a long story."

"Another world…" Petunia mused as she bustled around the kitchen. Eventually, she said, "Did you know I very nearly travelled the world? I wanted to take a job with the Foreign Office, see the world from British embassies. But before I could do so, I had to take a job at Grunnings. That's how I met Vernon. Long story short, I wanted to have one thing, one thing before your mother, Harry. So I threw it all away, just to spite your mother." She gave a bleak chuckle. "Even now, it's so damned hard to speak her name. That's how much I hated her." She emitted yet another bleak chuckle, that dissolved into soft sobbing.

Aerith was on her in a moment, trying her best to comfort the older woman. As Petunia wept gently, Jenova rolled her eyes. However, Aerith said, quietly and soothingly, "That's what hate does. It corrodes the links of family, links that shouldn't be broken."

Petunia nodded, before muttering, "Anger is an acid that does more damage to the vessel containing it than anything it is poured on. Mark Twain said that(1)." The kettle whistled, and Petunia went to making the cups of tea. "I didn't truly realise it until after you left Harry, and once my anger at your escaping us faded. I realised what I had thrown away, out of spite, out of the desire to one-up Lily. I could have made up to her, by raising you in her memory…but I hated you, just as much as I did my sister." Another bleak chuckle wormed from her lips as she put the cups on a tray, and brought it to the table. "I hated a child who was incapable of hating me back. A helpless child. But I was glad, you know. Glad that Lily died in that oh-so-great magic world of hers, and I was alive. God, I was a fool. I lost my family, piece by piece. My parents…my sister…and my nephew." As she took her own cup, she said, "You're not coming back, are you? You have your own family now."

Harry nodded, as he sipped from his cup. "I have family, and friends now. Everything that I had wanted here, I have there. The things I've seen, Aunt Petunia…they make what I've seen in Hogwarts and Diagon Alley pale by comparison. Wonders and horrors both."

"Turning into quite the poet, are you?" Petunia said with a rueful chuckle.

"It's probably my influence," Jenova said with a smile. "My flair for the melodramatic is rubbing off on him. On our world, he's been to space, and to deep within the Planet. He's fought, yes, fought, against beings that make Voldemort look like an insect, not least of which is my own magnificent self."

Petunia blinked in bemusement at the blonde-haired woman. Aerith said, "It's a long story. The short version is, Jenova was a foe before she became a friend."

Petunia blinked again, before saying, "I don't know what's more unbelievable: that, or the fact that anyone would refer to themselves as 'magnificent'."

Jenova smirked, while she sipped her tea. "Like I said, I have a flair for the melodramatic."

* * *

They caught up during that tea, albeit in a somewhat uncomfortable and awkward manner. Not that there was much in the way of news from Petunia, save for Dudley going to Smeltings, the _alma mater_ of Vernon Dursley. Harry gave an abridged version of his travels and battles on the Planet, deciding not to tell Petunia about Hogwarts. No need to rouse her jealousy more than it already had been. Not that she should be jealous of undergoing more than one near-death experience, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

It was…strange. Despite the awkwardness of coming back here, it also felt almost _normal_. As if Petunia was trying to be the aunt that she was meant to be, or at least a decent one. Harry couldn't forget her mental abuse, though, nor the occasional whack with a frying pan.

Surprisingly, Petunia seemed quite taken with Cait Sith. Knowing he was a robot, and not a magical thing, seemed to make her more accepting of the cat toy.

She even asked to see the Materia that they had with them. She rolled a Restore Materia around in her hands. "So, anyone can use it, as long as they have some small magical ability?"

Jenova nodded, before suddenly taking a knife and stabbing herself in the hand. Petunia's mouth was open in a silent shriek of understandable alarm. "For Minerva's sake, Jenova, did you have to?!" Aerith demanded, while Harry facepalmed.

"Practical demonstrations work best. Petunia, you may stop gaping and try healing that. I can heal it myself, but you can try."

Petunia calmed herself with a monumental effort, before she touched the Materia and concentrated. With a strange musical noise, green energy suffused Jenova's self-inflicted wound, closing it. "I did magic," she murmured, almost in wonder.

"Indeed." Smoke seemed to waft off the knife and tablecloth, and the bloodstains were gone. "Sorry, just getting rid of my cells. Now all your knife needs is a clean in the sink or dishwasher."

Petunia blinked at the blonde-haired woman, before gingerly handing the Restore Materia back to Aerith. "You are a freak," she said to Jenova. The tone wasn't a vicious one, like she would use when using the same term on Harry, but rather, a bleak, even scared tone.

Jenova merely grinned. "Thank you. I am also a bitch, a monster, and, for want of a better term, a goddess. Plenty of adjectives could apply to me." Her eyes narrowed. "Just as many could be applied to _you_. I saw Harry's memories. I…"

"Jenova," Harry said quietly. His gaze then flickered over to Petunia.

"You must despise me," Petunia said.

"Yes. But not as much as you must've despised me," Harry said. "I came here to bury the hatchet, and with it, the past. I'm not here to wreak revenge. I'm not sure I can forgive you, at least not yet. But I'm not going to hang onto my anger and hate, not if I can help it. I have everything I ever wanted: family, and friends. Maybe not by blood, but they're family."

Petunia nodded, before taking the now-empty teacups, and taking them back to the kitchen. As she began cleaning them, Aerith then spoke.

"You don't have to stay here, you know. Back home, on the Planet, you can use magic, with Materia. We can take you and your family."

Harry knew this was coming. Aerith had discussed it with him, and while not happy, he also knew that Aerith pitied Petunia, and had a more forgiving nature than he did. And to be fair, he pitied his aunt as well.

Petunia turned and stared at Aerith. Eventually, she asked, "Why would you do such a thing?"

"You wanted wonder in your life. I'm offering it. Your husband manages a drill company. Back home, there's an entire city being demolished and rebuilt. And we have many schools for your son."

Petunia considered it, for a few seconds, before she shook her head with a resigned, sad expression. "No, thank you. Your offer is…kind, and more than what I…deserve. But…my husband…he's very set in his ways. Obssessed with normality, with mundanity. Or what he thinks it is. He wouldn't understand. He wouldn't care. No, Miss Gainsborough, I have to decline your generous offer."

* * *

From there, little was said, save for inanities and banalities. They made small talk, before they finally decided to depart for the Burrow once more. Before he left, Harry, slightly reluctantly, hugged his aunt, knowing it would probably be the last time he would talk to her. And she knew this as well. She returned the embrace. Probably the first, last, and only time the two had any physical sign of affection.

He also thanked her for the photo she had sent over Christmas. The two exchanged niceties, and parted, Harry, Aerith, Jenova, and Cait Sith preparing to use the Knight Bus to head back to Ottery St Catchpole. Petunia watched them, wondering if she had made the right decision.

Not that that mattered anymore.

* * *

Rufus stared at the report in his hand, before he looked up at Reeve. "Are you sure this is correct?"

Reeve nodded. "You asked me to search for Scarlet and Heidegger's old files. Thankfully, Lucrezia was a big help, as Hojo also had some old files, and she remembered some of his old passwords. Given the handover in leadership between you and your father being so sudden, that's probably why you weren't briefed. And I'd also bet, given that Scarlet tried to topple you, she was keeping this card close to her chest. Had things gone differently, she might have decided to use them, but I'd say between Sephiroth and the Weapons…"

Rufus scoffed quietly. "Well, it's a good thing she didn't get to use them. What's the status of the excavation in the relevant areas?"

"Slow, but the area is relatively safe. I've taken the liberty of moving an excavation team to that area. They only await your order to begin."

Rufus nodded. "We'll wait until Aerith, Jenova, and Harry are back from Earth. As much as I hate to admit it, they're amongst our heaviest hitters. We may need them. If we're unlucky, we have a threat that will be a pain to deal with. But if we are lucky, we may just have what we need, if Sephiroth comes back. We badly need people who could go up against Sephiroth, Reeve."

Reeve gave a brief nod. "Very well. By the way, Lucrezia has given her agreement to be your chief scientific officer. And she's agreed to her new assistant, Doctor Rui."

Rufus smiled. It had taken some time, but they managed to track down the elusive Shalua Rui. A brilliant prosthetics engineer, she had once joined AVALANCHE, the very same version Rufus himself had funded, until she had enough of their extremism (this being the version Fuhito had led). She had also created Barrett's distinctive gun-arm(2). She was reluctant to work for Shinra, considering that they were the very same organisation who had conscripted her sister, Shelke, but Rufus had managed to persuade her that his intentions for Shinra were now very different. He also offered what resources he could spare (admittedly few) to finding any trace of her sister.

Speaking of which… "By the way, does Dr Rui know of our discovery?"

"I thought it prudent to notify you first, sir."

"A wise decision. I will tell her myself, Reeve. If we are very fortunate, then I think we will be seeing a little family reunion…"

 **CHAPTER 28 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, Harry and Petunia 'reconcile', so to speak, and Rufus and Reeve are up to something. And I'm sure many of you can guess what that something is. For those of you who can't guess, never fear, all will be revealed in the next chapter.**

 **1\. A quote I mentioned in** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **as well.**

 **2\. According to the Final Fantasy Wiki, anyway.**

 **CHAPTER 28 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **A Bittersweet Parting** **:** ** _The Heady Feeling of Freedom_** **, from** ** _Neon Genesis Evangelion_** **, composed by Shirou Sagisu**


	30. Chapter 29: What Lies Beneath

**CHAPTER 29:**

 **WHAT LIES BENEATH**

The day after coming back to the Planet, Harry was promptly whisked away by helicopter to the ruins of Midgar, and more specifically, the ruins underneath the old Shinra building (much to his annoyance, as he was spending time with his friends, who had come over on holiday). Some hurried excavation had been undertaken, and now, deep within a facility underneath the Shinra building, they were gathered outside a door. Everyone who had fought against Sephiroth was there, along with some faces that Harry didn't know: namely, a pair of women who appeared to be in their twenties.

The brown-haired one with the warm, if disturbingly familiar features, turned out to be Doctor Lucrezia Crescent, Sephiroth's mother, while the red-haired woman with the prosthetic left arm(1) was Doctor Shalua Rui. The latter seemed to eye the massive door they were in front of with both eager anticipation, and a quiet anxiety.

There were also some Shinra troops, armed and ready.

"Long ago," Rufus said, "my father founded a new section of SOLDIER. Nominally meant to be a medical treatment section, it was, in truth, a part of SOLDIER separate to the Jenova Project, designed to enhance soldiers purely with stagnant Mako, rather than with Jenova cells. A brutal project to create elite soldiers."

"So…how long till it bit your father in the ass?" Cid asked wryly.

"To my knowledge, it never did, though they did apparently plot to work around their control. This part of SOLDIER was called Deepground, and their elite are called the Tsviets, the Elite of Colours. They were housed here, along with a secret Mako Reactor, Number 0. Unfortunately, when my father was killed by Sephiroth, nobody saw fit to tell me about Deepground. Heidegger and Scarlet knew, but I know that blonde harpy kept the knowledge as a trump card, just in case." Rufus pointed at the door. "Behind that door lies Deepground, or what remains of them. I have considered whether to leave them to rot, or to free them. I have decided on the latter, which is why I have called you here. There is a chance that they may be belligerent, and I trust you to be able to deal with them. But I intend to try diplomacy first. There's a couple of reasons for that. A minor reason, for myself anyway, is that amongst the Tsviets is the sister of Dr Rui here. I am sure that she would prefer to see her sister alive rather than dead. But my main reason is somewhat more pragmatic."

"Which is what?" Barrett asked.

"Sephiroth. Should he revive, and there is every chance that he may, then we will need every bit of help we can get. I don't intend to add to Deepground's ranks, save for by volunteers, but even as they are, they are a useful force that we could use should Sephiroth, or another similar crisis, happen."

"Can't we communicate with anyone inside?" Sirius asked.

"No. The comms circuitry out here is busted, and we haven't been able to raise them yet. Any more questions? No? Good. Get ready." Rufus turned to the demolition experts working on the door. "Are we ready to breach?"

"Just say the word sir," one of them asked.

"Okay: word." Rufus smirked. Who said he didn't have a sense of humour?

The technicians set their charges, and then scurried away. The charges were actually meant to destroy the locks, but leave the doors intact. In a flare of actinic light, the locks were burnt through. But before anyone could open the doors, the doors opened…from the inside.

A quartet of bizarre people, clad in figure-hugging suits that had glowing blue lines on them, strode through. One of them was a massive, hulking man, with a huge mane of blue hair, and a vaguely bestial face. A second was a woman with long red hair, and a strange, blood-coloured fur cape on the back of her suit. The third was a girl of maybe nine or ten with orange hair, and a rather cold expression on her face, a face that was not unlike that of Shalua Rui, Harry realised.

The last, though, was perhaps the most bizarre of them all. His bodysuit seemed to be almost like a straitjacket, and he wore what seemed to be an elaborate muzzle-like mask on his face. Strange, metallic wings were on his back.

"Shelke!" Shalua hissed in dismay. Only a brief flicker in the young Deepground soldier's eyes betrayed that she acknowledged that exclamation.

The quartet paused in front of Rufus, before the restrained man gave a quiet nod. "Rufus Shinra. So, you have finally managed to disinter us from our living burial," he said in a quiet, polite voice.

"I didn't know about Deepground and the Tsviets until recently. You are Nero the Sable?"

"Indeed." He indicated for the others to introduce themselves.

"I am Rosso the Crimson," the red-haired woman declared, striding forward, and giving a vicious, bloodthirsty grin that would rival Jenova. "Give the word, Rufus, and the blood of your enemies shall stain my blades."

 _I_ _ **like**_ _her_ , Jenova said over her mental connection to Harry.

 _Of course you'd like her_ , Harry groaned.

"I am Azul the Cerulean," the hulking, bestial man said. "I will tear your enemies apart."

"I am Shelke the Transparent. Your enemies secrets, I will uncover and deliver them to you," the girl said.

Rufus nodded. "It is a pleasure to meet you all," he lied smoothly. He looked at Nero. "What of the Restrictors(2)? What of Weiss the Immaculate?"

"My brother is chained to his throne by order of the Restrictors. The Restrictors themselves are currently working to make sure that Deepground is kept under their control. However, when our surveillance devices picked up on your arrival, they allowed us out here to greet you." The restrained man's eyes roved over the gathered people. "Quite the reception committee, Rufus. Did you not trust us?"

"How would you treat an unknown danger?"

"A fair point," the Tsviet conceded. "A shame Scarlet and Heidegger didn't see fit to release us, or to notify you of our presence. But you have come to us in any case. If you wish us to be your sword, then we will be your sword."

"I hope it will not come to that, but a crisis that came around once may recur again."

"Ah yes, Sephiroth. Our intelligence personnel monitored the worldwide network during those events. I must confess to being surprised at you taking as much action as you did. You are certainly more of a man of action than your father. Certainly, you are more of a warrior."

"Plus, the way you blew off Heidegger's head was just so…" Rosso emitted a noise that sounded uncomfortably close to a sound of supreme pleasure. "I've always wanted to kill that fat pig with that godawful horse's laugh."

"So did I," Rufus said, with equanimity. "May I see Weiss?"

Nero nodded. "I shall take you and whatever escort you choose to him."

"Then I will go with him," Jenova said, stepping forward.

The Turks stepped forward too. "We will come as well," Tseng said.

"Very well. I will leave the others here. I believe that Shelke has someone who wishes to speak with her."

As Nero, Rufus, Jenova, and the Turks disappeared, Shalua moved forward. "Shelke?"

The girl looked coldly at Shalua. "Yes?"

"…Don't you recognise me?"

"I do," Shelke said.

"We've changed so much…eight years it has been."

The girl blinked. "Eight years…has it really been so long?"

"That's right. Except…you haven't changed at all. Eight years, and you don't look a day over nine. You look exactly as you did when the Turks took you…"

"Enough," Shelke said in a cold tone that seemed too adult for her child voice. "That was the prelude to eight years of suffering. They moulded my mind until I was a shadow of my former self. I lived in a hell far deeper than you can ever imagine. I should be 17 this year. And even this body would not last more than a day without Mako infusion. I don't consider myself unfortunate, except that I held onto a foolish hope that someone, some day, would come to rescue me."

Shalua fell to her knees and began to sob. Harry glared at Shelke. "How dare you? At least she feels sorry. At least she knows she failed you. At least you had a sister who loved you. I lived with an aunt and uncle who didn't give a damn about me, who treated me like a slave. I may not have gone through the same hell as you did, but at least you were loved by at least one living person!"

Shelke turned her cold gaze at Harry. "Love did not help me in Deepground."

"Harry…" Aerith said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Rosso strode over to them, and peered at Harry's face. "You're not much older than Shelke herself was when she was brought into our fold," she murmured, looking into his eyes. "And yet, your eyes glimmer with the fire of a warrior. You know what it is like to spill the blood of your enemies, boy."

"Oh Merlin, she's like cousin Bella," Sirius muttered, facepalming.

"Oh? Was she a warrior who enjoyed the screams of her enemies?" Rosso said, looking at Sirius.

"I wouldn't call her a warrior, but yes, she did enjoy people screaming," Sirius said.

"A kindred spirit then," Rosso said. She then turned to Aerith. "Is Dio's arena at Golden Saucer still around?"

"Battle Square? Yes, it is. Why?"

"Then I will face Harry there. Normally I would not stoop to face a child in combat(3), but he intrigues me. There is fire in his eyes and his soul." She smiled. "Besides, it has been so long since I have tested myself outside of Deepground."

* * *

Rufus couldn't help but feel nervous as Nero escorted him through the dark corridors of the Deepground HQ. It was understandable, after all. He was in the lion's den, and while he trusted the Turks and Jenova to watch his back, he was still wary.

"So, you believe Sephiroth will find a way to rise from the dead?" Nero asked in his calm voice.

"The goddess Minerva has confirmed it," Jenova said. "The guiding intelligence of this very Planet."

"I see. Of course, Sephiroth will be far from the last crisis to befall this world," Nero said. "First, your own self, Jenova, if you don't mind me saying so. I recognise you from when we had information feeds from Shinra. But Holy has severed those. The Weapons are another potential threat. And there may be as yet unknown threats, either on this Planet, or off it. We are eager to test our mettle against such an adversary. Your father never really used our forces. Perhaps he was afraid of treachery."

"He always was," Rufus snorted.

"True, but you proved treacherous to him."

"No comment," Rufus replied acidly.

They eventually came to a vast chamber, where, chained to a throne, surrounded by a moat brimming with Mako Energy, was a man of impressive stature. Muscled, with a shock of spiky white hair and a hard face of indeterminate age, he looked very intimidating. He looked up, and saw them approaching. "Brother," the man said in a deep, resonant growl of a voice, "it seems that you have brought me a few guests."

"Weiss the Immaculate," Rufus said, as he stepped forward.

"Rufus Shinra," Weiss acknowledged, with a nod. "You'll forgive me for not standing in your presence, but unfortunately, the Restrictors have some strange ideas of entertainment. I have to confess to being amused by their conceit. And the lack of hospitality is regrettable, but unfortunately, we did not have much notice before your visit. But the company is certainly interesting. You have brought the Turks with you, as well as the Calamity from the Skies herself, Jenova."

Jenova smiled, and gave a bow. "You flatter me, Weiss."

"Brother, they wish to free us to use Deepground as part of Shinra's army. They intend to use us should Sephiroth resurface," Nero said.

"Sephiroth?" Weiss gave a deep chuckle. "I see. In case of the resurgence of one monster, you are willing to let another off its leash?"

"A crude but apt anaology, Weiss. I only found out about Deepground recently. Deepground and the Tsviets can be a great asset to the world, and to Shinra, should any threat like Sephiroth threaten it. Besides, don't tell me you never wanted to test your mettle against him?"

After some thought, Weiss emitted yet another tenebrous chuckle. "Ah, you do know how to appeal to the fighter in me, Rufus Shinra. Weiss the Immaculate, versus Sephiroth, the ultimate culmination of the Jenova Project." He gave a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. "Yes…whatever your enemy, Rufus, we will exterminate them."

 **CHAPTER 29 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Deepground has been found! But will they be allies or foes? I wonder how many of you saw this coming, even given the end of the previous chapter? Deepground's re-integration (such as it is) will be explored in the next interquel,** ** _Holiday_** **.**

 **I took much of the dialogue, with some alterations, of Shelke and Shalua's reunion from a similar scene in** ** _Dirge of Cerberus_** **. Unlike there, Shelke is not going to kill Shalua, though their relationship will be somewhat cold for a time. Hopefully, it will thaw during the events of** ** _Holiday_** **.**

 **Sorry if the Tsviets seem OOC here: I'm putting this down to them being released before they get roped into Hojo's plan. They're still (for the most part) a bunch of bloodthirsty bastards (or at least Rosso and Azul are), but they're (currently) not working to destroy the world.**

 **1\. I'd assume that by this point, Shalua has lost her arm. However, she's not as reliant on cybernetics as she is in** ** _Dirge of Cerberus_** **, so her left eye's fine, and she only has one or two organs replaced.**

 **2\. The Restrictors were Deepground's controllers, in charge of the devices that kept them under control. They only appeared in the online campaign, which itself, AFAIK, is only in the Japanese version. By the way, given the vague nature of the Deepground timeline, this is set before the attempted revolt against the Restrictors that leads Weiss to getting taken over by Hojo.**

 **3\. That being said, she would gladly kill one outside of combat.**

 **CHAPTER 29 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **The Tsviets** **:** ** _Trespasser_** **, from** ** _Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII_** **, composed by Masashi Hamazu**

 **The Rui Sisters** **:** ** _Ten Year Reunion_** **, from** ** _Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII_** **, composed by Masashi Hamazu**


	31. Chapter 30: Foreshadowing

**CHAPTER 30:**

 **FORESHADOWING**

Lord Voldemort howled and screamed with inarticulate rage and fury as he was tossed hither and thither on the winds of the aether. Once more, his plans for immortality had been thwarted by that old goat Dumbledore, and that damned boy Harry Potter! Only this time, they had help!

Voldemort eventually settled where he had ended up the last time his soul had been blasted from his body: Albania. He could still feel the pain from both Flamel's attack, as well as Potter's Summon. Of all things, it had to be a bloody phoenix, just like Dumbledore's pet burning turkey!

Voldemort raged and ranted in that dark, lonely forest, though nobody, save for some spooked woodland creatures, could hear the sound of his fury. Expletives in an eldritch language echoed through that isolated place, gargled and growled curses that few people would understand. And yet, they did little to convey the sheer depth of Voldemort's hatred and anger towards his adversaries. For that, he wanted a physical body, a wand, and said enemies here so that he could use the Cruciatus Curse on them repeatedly, at least until he sent them into the void with the Killing Curse. Failing that, his own worthless minions. Lucius Malfoy was a definite case in point.

Eventually, his anger was spent, the flames of his rage dying down to embers. He was still angry, still filled with hatred, but now, he could begin to think more clearly. He analysed his defeat. He had underestimated his foes, had gotten too cocky, especially after he broke free from Flamel's attempt at sealing him. And even that had taken a monumental effort, one that may only have been possible with the magic-enhancing effects of unicorn blood. He would have to research such magic in the future, to make sure appropriate countermeasures were taken.

But Calamitas had surprised him with combat prowess, transfiguring part of herself into a weapon. Admirable, if it weren't so damnably painful to experience! And Flamel was some sort of Summon entity? If he was, he was one that had clearly too many ideas above his station. And said station was to be Voldemort's ally…or a corpse. Voldemort preferred the latter now: Thor's Hammer was certainly painful.

But Harry Potter and Dumbledore remained the chief targets of his ire. Dumbledore was a given for decades: meddlesome old bastard, an antediluvian fogey with delusions of morality. A powerful wizard, but one who didn't seize power. Instead, he dispensed dubious wisdom from on high, hollow platitudes and meaningless observations.

And Harry…Harry had only been on the radar since Severus overhead the prophecy. And twice now, that damned boy had made him taste the most bitterest of defeats, defeats that, if it weren't for the Horcruxes, would have seen him falling into the darkness of death.

Voldemort frowned, or at least he would have, had he a face. He could feel now that only two Horcruxes remained. He didn't know which ones, but he could only feel two tethers binding him to this domain. He needed to make another one before long, and hope that nobody destroyed either of them in the meantime. If Lucius still had the diary, then he hoped that he wouldn't do anything stupid with it…

* * *

Lucius Malfoy contemplated the diary in front of him, on a table in Malfoy Manor. Voldemort had entrusted it into his care long ago, and had told him something very important. If Voldemort had disappeared for a long enough period of time, then Malfoy was to somehow place the diary into the possession of a student of Hogwarts. The student would then be controlled into opening the infamous Chamber of Secrets.

Malfoy considered it. Harry Potter had come to Hogwarts, albeit under a new name: Harry Gainsborough. Harry had rejected Draco's offer, though apparently did so relatively lightly. But Draco didn't take kindly, which was a shame: the boy's lack of acumen was irritating. Once Lucius had sorted through his son's rantings, he managed to build up enough of a picture of Harry. What little Severus had been willing to divulge only served to make that certain. The boy was too much like his father, a do-gooder who supported Muggles. That being said, the boy had at least impressive powers, albeit apparently linked to those mysterious magic foci that he had, Materia or something.

Harry also had allies, not just at Hogwarts, but in some sort of family. Both the now-pardoned Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were definitely allies, as were the Weasleys. He also had two newcomers on the scene, a pair of witches who spoke with American accents, and who had some sort of animate Muggle toy that somehow remained functional at Hogwarts.

Jen Calamitas and Aerith Gainsborough were definite mysteries, though he had gotten a general impression of them, albeit through secondhand sources. Calamitas had the attitude of a pureblood (and had claimed to be such to Draco on the Hogwarts Express), and seemed to be confident of her ability in magic. Draco had even explicitly compared Calamitas to his mother.

Gainsborough was another matter. Apparently a Halfblood, she seemed to be demure and too kind. And yet, even Draco had noticed that she had a steely core. Snape also pointed out that she had faced down a mountain troll without fear, and had grievously wounded it.

No matter, Lucius thought. Before one of the Dark Lord's own artifacts, and the infamous monster from the Chamber of Secrets, they would all fall. If he played his cards right, Dumbledore would be ousted, and Malfoy would control Hogwarts.

But what to do? Who to put it with? He could try anyone, true, but he wanted to cause a lot of damage, not just to Dumbledore and Potter.

A malicious grin came over his face. Yes, why not? He would choose one of Weasley's spawn. The youngest, the only girl, was due to start this year. Have one of the Weasley children take the diary, and be made to do its bidding. Word on the grapevine was that Arthur Weasley, blood-traitor that he was, was pushing for a new Muggle Protection Act. This would scupper the new legislation as well as bring Malfoy into control at Hogwarts all at once.

He was unaware, as he began to murmur to himself, that one of his house elves, a bat-eared, bug-eyed little thing in a dirty pillowcase, was watching and listening. And even if he was aware, he didn't think that Dobby would dare try anything.

Which was something of a mistake.

* * *

"…And so, Mr Lockhart, I have decided that you shall be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said, trying the hold back the disgust he felt towards the gilded peacock sitting in front of him.

Gilderoy Lockhart smiled winningly. He was good at that. Very good. Dumbledore had his little twinkle in his eyes, and Lockhart had his winning smile. "Excellent! I must say, Headmaster, it'll be fun to teach these rascals how to fight the forces of darkness like I have done! Especially the Boy Who Lived himself! Harry Potter! Though I'm curious. The Daily Prophet said that he had changed his name. Why would he want to do that?"

"Harry was adopted by one Elmyra Gainsborough, who is a Muggle. Her adoptive daughter, and Harry's adoptive sister, is a Halfblood witch. She is assistant to Madam Pomphrey, while you will be assisted by Professor Jen Calamitas."

"Oh, no need for that!" Lockhart said with a smile. "I'll be fine teaching them by myself!"

"I insist, Mr Lockhart. Professor Calamitas is a very able assistant, and I have gone to a lot of trouble to keep her on. Don't worry, she won't get in your way, and she's very able. She has hunted many a monster of some repute, and she has read all of your books, and enjoyed them immensely."

As comedy, Dumbledore failed to mention. Jenova had laughed her head off (almost literally) while reading Lockhart's books, pointing out the continuity errors, as well as the obscenely flowery prose. She also found some of the mishaps he actually wrote about hilarious.

"Ah, well, I suppose that's all right then. Let it not be said that Gilderoy Lockhart dismissed competent assistance when offered." He leaned forward and asked, confidentially, "Is she a paragon of beauty?"

"As much as your good self, Mr Lockhart," Dumbledore said, with a thin smile. He handed Lockhart a photo from the yearbook.

Lockhart looked at the photo, and smiled. "Ah, what a haughty, regal beauty she is! What a noble brow! What wonderful eyes! What graceful hair! Oh, I hope she doesn't overshadow me."

Dumbledore smiled, but inwardly, he was thinking, _Sometimes, there just isn't enough vomit in the world(_ _1)_ _…_

* * *

Dio wasn't sure what to make of the latest addition to Battle Square at the Golden Saucer. The man had fallen out of the sky, screaming in a humorous manner, into the Corel Desert Prison below the Golden Saucer. After he asked about some people whose names hadn't been heard of, he began picking fights below. Dio was struck by how the reports portrayed the man: despite being a buffoon, the man was a pretty good fighter. In fact, he had gone through more than a few complete rounds at Battle Square, and now, he was Dio's champion for fighters to fight against.

Even so, he was, first and foremost, a buffoon. Look at him, strutting about in his red clothing, with swords in scabbards at his back. He also wouldn't shut up. Since he claimed to be a mercenary, Dio nicknamed him the 'Merc with the Mouth'.

"So, this is the arena where we do glorious battle while the readers cheer us on?" the Merc with the Mouth remarked.

"…Readers? Don't you mean the audience?"

"To-may-toe, to-mah-toe," the Merc responded with a shrug. He looked down at the arena of Battle Square. "A bit small, but not bad. Rather like your speedos. Ah, but there was that Colisseum I fought on on one world. Tagged along with one group for a while on that one. A couple of hot babes amongst them. Ah, but you should see the fanart for them."

Dio looked back at the Merc. "…Has anyone told you that you are insane?"

"If they do, I never listen to them. Sanity is highly overrated when you're wandering the gulf between dimensions," the man said with a shrug. "Ooh, ooh! What's the battle theme for this place?"

"Umm, we pipe through the battle themes from _Loveless_ ," Dio said, nonplussed by the insane mercenary and his incessant questions.

"Play it."

Dio signalled to the sound technician. The mercenary listened to the tracks, bouncing his head gently in time to the music. After the music had finished, he said, "Hmm, not bad, not bad. But when I come on to kick a challenger's ass as your champion, I want to play _my_ theme."

"Which is what?" Dio asked, dreading the answer.

The man clicked his fingers, and suddenly, from the very air itself, a powerful rock theme began, fast paced and blood-stirring. For all the fear Dio had about what this guy would consider his theme, this was actually cool. It was excellent battle music, fast-paced and enjoyable. Not exactly high culture like the ones from Loveless, but even so, it was bloody good.

He could have done without the mercenary doing air guitar though.

As the music faded away, the mercenary said, "You like?"

"I like," Dio said, nodding enthusiastically. "But how did you conjure the music out of thin air?"

"In my long travels, and through many arduous experiences, I have learned the art of many things. Like breaking the fourth wall, and conjuring up my own theme music. Hey, by the way, you readers? What do you think about the remake? Will it be the best thing ever, or will it suck worse than a turbo-charged vacuum cleaner?"

Dio didn't know who he was talking to, or what the hell he was talking about. Trying to get the conversation back on track, he said, "Does the theme music have a name?"

"Yeah. Nobuo Uematsu called it _Clash on the Big Bridge_. Yes, that is right, faithful readers," the man bellowed to his non-existent audience. "It is I, the most popular _Final Fantasy_ character of all time, and the greatest and most handsome swordsman, the one, the only GILGAMESH!"

Dio leapt into the air when he heard applause coming from the air. There wasn't an audience here, not at the moment. "Did you just conjure up your own applause?"

"Well, I'd like to think it's the readers applauding my arrival in this fanfic, but hey, you could be right, and I could be just being delusional. This happens when I take lessons from Deadpool," Gilgamesh muttered. "Anyway, folks, that's it from me for the time being, at least until Quatermass gets off his ass and writes the next instalment of the series, _Holiday_. What will happen then? Will I get to face off against the Boy Who Lived? Well, at least this Harry Potter is more badass than the canon one. Will I get a hot date, with Tifa, or Jenova, or both? Will Luna utter any more enigmatic utterances?"

* * *

In her room at the Gainsborough house, Luna said, to the confusion of everyone around her, "Does Dumbledore's eyes twinkle?"

* * *

"Oh, she's good," Gilgamesh remarked.

* * *

"Of course. You're not the only one who can break the fourth wall in this story," Luna said. She then smiled at the readers. "Stay tuned for the next instalment of the Cetra Heritage Saga: _Holiday_. You might have to wait a while for it though. Poor Quatermass is feeling a bit burnt out finishing this instalment."

* * *

"Bloody crybaby," Gilgamesh sniffed disdainfully. "It took him three shitty instalments to introduce me! I want my moment to shine _now!_ "

* * *

Luna shook her head. "Anyway, watch this space for _Holiday_. Take your time, Quatermass. See you soon, and don't let the nargles get to you!"

 **HARRY GAINSBOROUGH WILL RETURN IN…** ** _HOLIDAY_** **.**

 **CHAPTER 30 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Bloody Gilgamesh. I wish he'd stop taking lessons from Deadpool. It's expensive repairing the fourth wall…**

 **Anyway, this marks the end of the third instalment, and second full story, of the Cetra Heritage Saga. It'll be some time before you get to see the next instalment. I've burned myself out somewhat on this story.**

 **14K views, though, with 57K views on** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **, and 5K views on** ** _Birthday_** **. Holy crap.**

 **Anyway, review-answering time!** **EricDraven239** **: That's not going to happen, though Harry will be the sort of hero Sephiroth should have been.**

 **And that's it. See you later!**

 **1\. A quote from an episode of** ** _QI_** **, when in the episode Everything, Etc, Clive Anderson gets a buzzer that plays part of Bryan Adams'** ** _(Everything I Do) I Do It For You_** **. Stephen Fry then utters that quote.**

 **CHAPTER 30 SOUNDTRACK:**

 **IT IS I, GILGAMESH!:** ** _Clash on the Big Bridge: Final Fantasy Anniversary Edition_** **version, from** ** _Final Fantasy I_** **(PSP version), originally from** ** _Final Fantasy V_** **, composed by Nobuo Uematsu. What else could it be? Seriously.**


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